Misunderstandings
by Slurpee Monster
Summary: It's been a while since Vort fell to the Irken Invasion, and Prisoner 777 finds himself getting used to life behind an electrical force field. The food is gross, the guards are short-tempered, and he often wishes he had more conversations, but it could always be worse. Then one day the he rescues a former co-worker and suddenly prison life becomes a lot more complicated.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Notes:** So… I started another fanfic. What else would I be doing? Homework? Not so much! I apologize. I wish I was more focused on finishing the ones I've started. I just thought I'd give everyone an idea of what my documents folder looks like.

There's half-done fanfiction bloody everywhere!

**Warnings: **There will be the typical angst and lack of romance in this fic. Also, expect a couple OCs to pop up eventually, and there will most likely be some out of characterness. Whether or not that will be explainable at a later time is still up for debate in my brain. Yes. No. Yes. Maybe. I am writing an angst fic, and a humor fic… so what about an angsty humor fic? Think it'll work?

There will also be mentions of suicide, nakedness (not sexual), and violence.

Let's experiment Vortian style! Opp opp opp… I've got to get that song out of my head…

* * *

**Good Luck**

There was always some kind of noise to be heard. The whirring of the force field with the occasional snap or crackle of electricity, the sound of the guard's heavy boots as they patrolled the halls, the hum of the computer and other devices he had been allowed to keep as long as he used them to work, and every so often the clatter of something being dropped from one of the other cells somewhere down the line.

He spent hours going over data programming, tinkering with the different codes. It wasn't too different from before except for the complete lack of freedom. There were no more coffee breaks or collaboration with fellow workers... everyone, for the most part, was kept separate from one another unless absolutely necessary.

The guards made terrible conversation... in fact they hardly spoke to the prisoners at all. Occasionally there would be a command of some kind delivered from a superior or whatever, but there was hardly ever any idle chit-chat. He missed that the most; talking for the sake of talking.

This was why when he got an occasional call from a certain someone, he always responded.

Who cared if it cost him food rations or got him zapped? He needed some kind of social interaction.

Luckily he hadn't been caught talking to this strange fellow or smuggling things out of the prison, so he hadn't gotten punished yet. Now that was a funny thing to think about: punishment. The guards could only do so much because the prisoners needed to be kept in relatively good condition. That meant arms and fingers couldn't be broken, and blunt force trauma to the head was frowned upon by the superiors.

Legs seemed to be fair game though, and getting shocked was a pretty common thing. Sometimes rations were cut. He also heard about the odd beatings that happened every so often, but most of the blows landed on the body and not the head or face, so that guy was ready to work in less than a day.

It took the other guy two days to recover. Some people healed faster than others.

He wasn't sure how many months it had been. Ten? Eleven? That was another thing he never bothered to ask about. "Hey, how long have you guys been occupying my planet for?" didn't really seem like the best question to ask.

Quite frequently he was bored. He was supposed to design more weapons... Fine. He'd show them blueprints. Try something that would zap the user HA! Of course that would be bad for the test-subjects.

If they lived and weren't too badly electrocuted they might get a laugh out of it. Laughing wasn't really allowed either now that he thought about it.

In any case, his friends would be better off if he stuck to the plans. Fine, it was settled. What was he doing again?

He blinked. His train of thought was gone. Time to start a new one...

Should he or shouldn't he include seat belts on the Giga-Doomer? No wait... think of something else; something more interesting. How long would they be under this oppressive regime? No no. Too depressing. Will he ever get married? What? Where did that thought come from?

He was trying not to think about depressing things.

Oh well... maybe someone will call. That would be fun... for a few minutes anyway.

He started to hum.

Too bad the cot was so uncomfortable or he might try sleeping.. but if he slept now he wouldn't be able to sleep later. That could be a problem. When did the last meal come? Three hours ago? Something like that. There wouldn't be any more food until evening and that wouldn't be for another five hours.

Five hours of thinking meaningless things. Oh boy.

How was Dougie doing? Did he still have that limp? Poor guy... no one has tried resisting the guards since that happened last week.

Resisting? Who said he was going to escape and start doing that..? One of his co-workers probably. Did that guy ever get past the devices that were supposed to make you explode? He couldn't remember hearing about any explosions, well, except for the first guy who got to demonstrate how the doors worked. Cripes that had been messy...

He watched the powerful electric current making up the cell bars. He'd touched it once. It hurt like heck.

Maybe he should start thinking about the Giga-Doomer again... it was his next project. The Mega-Doomer had been fun to sabotage. How could he wreck this one without making it look like he did it on purpose?

His humming stopped. He could hear the clack clack of the guard's boots coming down the hall. They didn't like humming, or singing, or whistling, or anything really. It was better to be quiet. Keep your head down and they'll pass right by.

Yup. He'll most likely pass right by. Possibly. Why had the footsteps stopped outside his cell? Now the electrical current was parting. Oh dear. He really didn't want to end up getting strangled again... although he couldn't remember if he'd done anything recently to warrant a physical assault, not that it mattered too much. The guards could knock him around for almost anything.

Instead of ducking behind his desk and cowering like he wanted, he slowly turned to face the guard who was approaching. If they accuse me of anything just play dumb, he silently told himself. That's right. I'll be the dumbest Vortian ever… what did you hide under your mattress they'll ask, and I'll be like "what mattress!?" Ha ha… yeah. I'm getting zapped for sure today.

"Prisoner 777," the guard had a frown on his face. That wasn't a good sign, although the guards usually didn't look too happy. Actually, most of the Irkens here seemed to have only three emotions: angry, angrier, and mildly amused at the prisoners' lame attempts to avoid getting shocked.

He swallowed and slowly opened his mouth to respond, but the guard continued. "Come with me."

There was no way he could refuse. He slid off his chair and followed after the guard who had already turned to leave. This would be one of the best chances he had to escape in a while, but one glance at the long sickle in the authority figure's hand, and he lost all his nerve.

Bravery had never really been his thing.

The hallway seemed to stretch on forever. Then when he thought they might be reaching their destination, they turned into another hallway. Apparently he wasn't being taken to the lab or the engineering site... he squeezed his hands into fists. Maybe they were going to execute him.

"Um ah..." his voice returned when he thought of what could happen. His mouth was dry. He wished he had some water. "Where are we going...?"

In an instant the sickle was shoved close to his face. He backed up and let out a small squeak of surprise. All his dignity was gone now, not that he had much of it in the first place. Yeah... that had been flushed down the proverbial toilet along with his self-respect months ago.

"You don't ask the questions," the guard insisted as he retracted the frightening weapon. "Follow me and stay quiet."

His whole body was shaking now. He mentally kicked himself for not being able to hide it. Grinding his teeth, he lowered his eyes and obediently followed after the guard.

They rode a platform down to the next level. Another hall... and then they came to some big intimidating steel doors. He stopped a good distance behind the guard and stared.

Two other guards were standing at the entrance, keeping watch. They saluted and moved to open the doors. He swallowed down the lump in his throat and willed himself to step forward into the room as his mind raced over all the best and worst-case scenarios.

They'd discovered his secret communication link. He was a goner. Maybe he was being released! What did he do to get released...? Nothing. Shoot. They were going to kill him. They figured out he sabotaged the Megadoomer and now he was dead. Maybe someone paid off his captors to get him released! Who did he know that had that kind of monies? No one. He was going to die today...

Then he saw his former co-worker; the one who had escaped. Lard Nar! That was his name. How could he forget? They spent months working on the designs for the Massive together. He was covered in bruises and cuts. The poor guy could barely stand. One of his arms was obviously broken. What was this? Was it some kind of interrogation?

His chest became heavy and he gaped at all the guards. This was an execution for sure! What about all his grand plans? ... Well some of them were grand anyway. There were still lots of things he wanted to design and build, and what about maybe one day falling in love and having a family?

Ok... the chances of that happening were slim to none... especially in prison, but still!

He could see the hostility in the Irkens' eyes. They glowered at him as he was led towards the center of the room. He came to stand beside his former co-worker who muttered an apology before collapsing to one knee.

"Ah... It's alright," he spoke. Was it really alright? He felt weighed down by his impending doom. He was trying not to tremble, and there was a squeezing pressure in his chest. Maybe he would end up dying of a heart attack before they had a chance to kill him.

That would be hilarious. There would be absolutely no chance of reclaiming any of his dignity if that happened. He almost laughed out loud, but he stopped himself. Laughing wouldn't help his situation. He needed to keep his wits about him.

First he took a quick look around the room. There were a dozen guards. The exit was being blocked, and Lard Nar was barely conscious.

He wished he had some better memories for when his life flashed before his eyes. Being only able to recall beakers, diagrams, and coding was slightly depressing. Oh ok. He could have gone the rest of his life without picturing the former Tallest getting eaten by that horrible worm thing. Yep. That was pretty gross.

Plan plan, think of a plan... there was no way he could fight off one guard, never mind twelve, so that option was discarded. Option two: reason with the Irkens. He'd already tried that for other things... it never went over well. Reasoning was out of the question then. Run and hide...? That would be possible.

He could see a grate not too far away. If he could make it to that, he might be able to slip into the catacombs.

He could live off condensation and the weird green stuff that sometimes grows on damp surfaces down there. Yeah… that was realistic. Besides, if he ran away, would they kill Lard Nar? They were probably going to kill him anyway, and it wasn't like his former co-worker was in any shape to run for it... since when had he become so selfish?

Since always, coward remember? He berated himself.

"Do you have anything to say in your defense prisoner 777?" the largest guard questioned. Apparently the Irken had been talking for a while now... oh crud.

"I uh... I have a pretty solid alibi..." he replied. Perhaps he sounded too witty, because that answer earned him a good jolt. Yeowch it stung.

"We've accessed your computer's files," the guard informed him. "We found an unknown caller id number. Were you contacting this rebel?" he pointed an accusing finger at Lard Nar.

"Uh... no..." Prisoner 777 responded. "You see... I used to um... work with someone... and uh... he calls me sometimes... they should all be incoming transmissions right...? I never called anyone..."

"Who was this person?" the guard demanded.

"It was Zim," Prisoner 777 decided to answer honestly. "Yeah, just Zim..." He'd been wondering if the guards ever screened incoming transmissions to the prison. Apparently the answer was 'not really.' How lucky.

"Why did he call?"

"Oh uh..." this was the tricky part... he couldn't just go and say he'd given the little Irken Vortian technology without permission... "Something about conquering a planet... I guess he moved onto bigger and better things after Vort Lab nine.. I wish I could say the same, but oh well. That's life I guess. Am I in trouble?"

The bulky guard looked down at him. "That depends on how you answer the next few questions."

"Ok." He suspected he wouldn't be able to walk out of here no matter how he answered, but hope was hope.

"Do you know him at all?"

Again the guard gestured to Lard Nar.

"Yes," he replied. "We worked together before the invasion…"

"Have you had any contact with him since?"

"Huh..." he tapped his chin. "I'm not really sure. I might have spoken to him in prison. I mean, um… I'm pretty sure we talked at some point at some time…

"What did you say to each other?" the guard pressed.

"Pass me that wrench' or 'nice day for slave labour' probably," Prisoner 777 answered. He didn't mean to sound like he was making fun of the situation, but he tended to joke when he got nervous, and he was so nervous right now he felt sick to his stomach.

"Told you..." Lard Nar breathed. He tried to stand up straight, but every small movement seemed to be causing him a lot of pain. "He... doesn't know... anything..."

"Am I supposed to know something?" Prisoner 777 questioned, looking at the guard and then at Lard Nar.

"Heh..." the guard smirked. "You were the one who gave us his name Lard Nar."

Prisoner 777 ran a hand down his face. "Look um... I really don't know anything about what's going on here... honest."

"Maybe a bit of torture will refresh your memory," the guard said, jabbing his shock stick at him.

Prisoner 777 clenched his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut as the electricity coursed through his body. "Nope... pretty sure that'll just make me faint..." he mumbled, holding his head. The room was starting to spin. Yup. He was going to lose consciousness for sure at this rate.

"Pfft..."

All of the guards suddenly stood at attention as their eyes shifted towards the entrance. He slowly turned to see what they were looking at. His eyes widened and his mouth fell open in shock.

One of their leaders, the one in purple armor, was covering his mouth to muffle a laugh. The other leader, the one dressed in red, was looking right at him with an amused expression on his face.

"He'll faint," Purple said, chuckling. "That's pretty funny."

"S-Sirs," The lead guard stammered. "I wasn't expecting you..." he glanced around at all the stunned looks of the guards in the room. "We weren't expecting you," he corrected.

"Of course you weren't," Red remarked raising an invisible brow as he switched his attention to the guard. "We didn't say we were coming."

"Yeah, the trial took forever... even though it was just supposed to be a formality or whatever," Purple said. One of his antennae twitched, and he frowned. "Some formality that was!"

"I uh... did things not go well?" the guard asked.

"Zim's corrupt data made the control brains go insane..." Red grumbled, bringing a hand to his forehead. "Among other things."

"Terrible things. That's why we're here. We needed to get off that death-trap for a minute," Purple added. He dropped his gaze to Prisoner 777. "So what's going on here?"

Red scowled at his fellow Tallest. "You forgot?"

"Yeah," he waved towards some of the guards. "They can remind me."

"We were just interrogating the rebel leader and one of his accomplices," the lead guard explained.

Accomplice...? Prisoner 777 glanced briefly at Lard Nar. "Just what have you been telling these people?"

"Sorry..." the barely conscious Vortian muttered. "It was...it just slipped out..."

"What? Why?" Prisoner 777 asked as he tried to suppress another wave of dread, and nausea, and dizziness. This was turning into a fantastic day. "Why would that slip out? I've never even skipped out on paying my taxes though why they needed so much money to build that tower I'll never…"

Again the freaky looking shock-stick was jabbed in his direction. He winced, expecting another jolt of electricity. He should have known better than to talk to the other captive... when prisoners started talking, the guards got all zappy-happy. Ha ha. Zappy happy. It rhymed.

"Hey, enough with the dramatics," Red stated; his eyes narrowing at the guard. "We aren't barbarians."

"Sorry sir," the guard's captain stated, standing up straight and returning the shock-stick to its former position.

No pain...? Prisoner 777 cracked open an eye.

"We know what happened in the lab," Red explained. He was talking to him, the one they called prisoner number 777? Was this real? Maybe he was daydreaming... or they already killed him and this was some kind of pre-death imagination thing, although he didn't really want to spend his last few seconds of life imagining he was talking to the Tallest. "Most of Irk already knows about it."

"Yeah, to think Zim killed Tallest Miyuki and Tallest Spork," Purple spoke shaking his head.

"It really isn't that surprising that he did it completely on his own, unaided by anyone else," Red commented. "With the amount of destruction he seems to cause…"

"Yeah, hindsight and all that," Prisoner 777 agreed nervously. This was his chance to get himself out of this mess... he risked a quick glance at Lard Nar. The accused rebel's eyes weren't staying open, and he was beginning to teeter where he knelt.

He wasn't a brave soul. He really didn't want to end up like Lard Nar.

"What?" Purple questioned. One of his antennae flicked forward slightly.

"It means now that we look back on the situation, it seems obvious that it was Zim's fault," Red explained.

"Oh. Yeah. Pretty much."

"We threw the blame onto the Vortians because it was easier, but since we haven't been able to control Zim either…"

"Ugh… remember when he wiped out half the armada with that red planet?"

Red squinted an eye at his partner. "You're bringing that up now? Really?"

Purple shrugged.

"Anyway, I think the real question is... what should we do now?" Red asked, rubbing his chin. "It's too late to make peace with Vort since we kind of destroyed a lot of it, and imprisoned the survivors to work for us."

Prisoner 777 perked up a bit. They were actually talking about making peace? No wait... the red one said it was too late for that... His heart sank. He was going to end up spending the rest of his days in a smallish prison cell, designing weapons for the Irkens, without pay... or social contact... and no pension! What was he going to do when he got too old to make things? Becoming a beggar on Food Courtia?

At least that would be some years in the future... or he could die now and be dead. Either option was kind of a bummer.

"So uh... I guess I go back to my cell then?" he ventured.

Both Tallest looked at him with bemused expressions. The red one smirked. "Eager to continue your life sentence are you?"

"Well uh... I mean, being slowly driven insane through boredom and isolation doesn't seem so bad anymore... after uh..." He waved absently with his hand. "This... not that I really want to continue it or anything... haha..."

"Then don't," Purple told him.

"Beg your pardon?" he must have heard the Tallest wrong.

"You hear that?" Red asked the surrounding guards. "That guy has our permission to leave."

"The room my Tallest?" the guard questioned in confusion.

"Yes the room, and the prison," Red remarked irritably. "How else do you want me to say it?"

The guard shrank back. "Forgive me my Tallest..."

"Sure whatever," Red said, waving dismissively. "Break up the party guys."

"Yup, show's over," Purple spoke, waving them away.

This was just too amazing! Prisoner 777 wanted to leave as quickly as possible before their sudden bizarre order was changed. He headed for the door, feeling quite excited. Of course they were probably joking and he was going to get mauled as soon as he left the room, but there was only one way to find out for sure.

"What about the rebel my Tallest?" one of the other guards asked, motioning to Lard Nar.

Prisoner 777 froze. Oh yeah… his co-worker was still on death row. How could he forget something like that?

"You mean the guy you beat half to death?" Purple questioned with a puzzled frown.

"He's the leader of the rebels who are trying to kill you my Tallest," the leader of the guard stated. "He's dangerous... I mean... some of his followers are still out there."

"Ehh..." Purple pondered for a moment. "Throw him out the airlock I guess."

"Um uh... could I say something?" Prisoner 777 asked as he turned to face Irk's leaders. He swallowed down his fear while his mind raced, trying to find an answer about why he was doing this. The soul searing guilt most likely... if he stood by and watch Lard Nar die, he wouldn't be able to go on living... like he had before... feeling all guilt free.

He would never kill himself on purpose. Nope, suicide was never an option, even though his family was locked up who knows where, and he had begun feeling rather alone and very much isolated. Now he was risking his possible chance at freedom for a former co-worker he could barely remember.

Why couldn't he be like most people who made self-preservation their main priority? He usually did! This was out of character, and wrong, and he was getting himself in trouble, and why was he doing this? What else could he possibly think to make himself change his mind?

"He might be a rebel leader or whatever, but he's also a brilliant engineer," Prisoner 777 explained, despite his wishing he would just shut up. He could feel his chest constricting. Never mind his loss of his maybe freedom, this was going to get him killed for sure... "I'd hate to lose a former co-worker like that... so maybe... I dunno... maybe you could not kill him...?"

"So he can try to kill us again later?" Red questioned, raising an invisible brow.

"No no... look... um... he'll owe you guys one right?" Seriously, he should've just kept his mouth shut. The way the Tallest were looking at him made him want to melt into the floor. They didn't seem angry, but that was the scary part! At least with anger he had some idea of what to expect. They were just staring at him looking perplexed and maybe disappointed or impassive or entertained, and reading expressions had never really been his thing either.

"That still sounds like a risky idea to me," Red commented.

"Yeah, me too," Purple agreed. "It'd be better to blow him up or something."

"I... I'll take responsibility..." Prisoner 777 offered in a small unsure voice. "If he tries anything... you can blow us both up."

The Tallest wearing purple squinted an eye and the other one continued to stare. Of course they could choose to blow them both up right now... stupid. Why was he saying all of these dumb things? He glanced at Lard Nar still teetering on the verge of collapse, and his heart constricted. No one should be brutally beaten and killed like that, but it had happened a couple times before. No one spoke up to even try and rescue those people.

Maybe the guilt from those times had been gathering under the surface, and now when he should have been playing coward the most, he was talking back to their captors.

"You'd be forfeiting your chance for freedom," Red told him plainly. "And you'll have to watch that guy," he gestured at Lard Nar. "All the time, every day."

"Y-yeah..." Prisoner 777 spoke, rubbing one of his arms nervously. "But um... life is an important thing so... I'll do it..."

Stupid! Irkens didn't understand the importance of life! That's why they went around killing everything!

"Say it with more confidence, and we'll go with it," Purple said, sounding rather indifferent. "Right now you seem like you don't know what you want."

"And we might decide to kill him down the road anyway," Red remarked with a shrug. "You'll get more benefit from walking away right now."

"I still want to do this..." Prisoner 777 said, meeting their gaze briefly before returning his attention to the floor. Nice floor. Did they polish it?

"Alright, we got it," Red said as he turned to the outspoken guard. "Make the necessary preparations."

"Yes sir," the guard gave a quick salute before leading half of the other guard out of the room. The rest remained behind, looking as stern as ever. Two of them stepped forwards and snagged Lard Nar by the arms, and the rebel cried out in pain. They hauled him into the hallway after the other guard.

The remaining armed Irkens surrounded prisoner 777. He flinched and brought his arms close to his chest, expecting to be dragged out just as forcefully as his former co-worker.

"We're escorting you back to your cell, so walk on your own," one of them told him irritably.

"Oh uh... ok..." Prisoner 777 replied, dropping his arms back down. He started towards the door, catching a quick glance over his shoulder at Irk's leaders. For some reason they hadn't killed him...and they'd even listened to his request. The Tallest never listened to anyone except maybe an adviser or something.

He gulped and ran a hand down his face. What would they do if they ever found out he gave Zim top secret Vortian technology he wondered.

He really should have left while he had the chance...

* * *

**More Notes:** Near death experiences can do weird things for people… for the Tallest, it gave them a moment of nice. Or so it seems. This fic takes place right after Zim's trial in the trial episode that never aired.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's notes:** There's nothing like eating ice-cream and writing angsty fiction. I've never been in prison before, so I might not understand the whole… how it works thing, but I've watched some TV about it. That counts right?

Thanks for the reviews. I was trying to think of how to portray Prisoner 777, and I'm glad you guys liked the result of that thought process. In the first episode he appears in, he seems to be happy-go-lucky, kind of joking, and optimistic. Then when he's voiced in Nubs of Doom, he just seems so bored. Maybe it was the time difference? The daily grind had settled in? He got zapped a few too many times? Speculation makes fanfiction happen.

* * *

**Cellmates**

There was more than just physical damage, he was pretty sure. He kept glancing over at his new cellmate, Lard Nar, who hadn't moved from his cot in three days. It was almost like he was still here by himself; the only difference was he had a bit less space to use.

The other Vortian never offered up any kind of conversation, and when he tried to start one, he wouldn't get a response.

Lard Nar hadn't been eating any of the food the guards brought either. Prisoner 777 would be lying if he said he hadn't been taking advantage of this, and he figured he should probably stop eating more than he should before he got fat... but gosh he was bored. If he wasn't eating, he'd be forced to think, and if he wasn't thinking he was hopefully asleep, or near enough to sleep that he at least thought he was asleep.

His work on the Gigadoomer was postponed while he 'adjusted' to living with the corpse-like being they called his cellmate. Lard Nar slept most of the time, and when he wasn't doing that, he was staring off into space.

Prisoner 777 tapped his fingers on the desk. Hm... well... his work would continue eventually, and then he wouldn't be stuck alone in a room with a gloomy ex-rebel who was doing a very good job ignoring his existence. Well he would be technically still stuck in this room unless he got put on the build team. There wasn't much chance of that happening though because of this new situation. He was supposed to keep an eye on Lard Nar, and he couldn't do that if he was off somewhere else. The Irkens probably wouldn't want a former rebel helping construct the stuff they were building either.

"I know you can hear me even if you pretend you can't," he informed Lard Nar who was lying with his back turned to him. "You really need to start eating something or you're going to wither away, and I really don't want to force you, but I just might if you don't show me you're at least trying to live."

Prisoner 777's words were met with silence. He let out a sigh. "Starving yourself to death won't do anything you know." Tap tap tap. He continued tapping his fingers on the desk. "You'll be causing the Irkens more problems if you keep yourself alive. If you die now, you're just one less prisoner to worry about."

Again Lard Nar refused to respond. Prisoner 777 listened to the crackling of the electric force-field around them. It was annoying, but at least it was filling in the awkward silences.

"Ok fine. I'm forcing you," he concluded. He was a bit worried because his cellmate hadn't received any kind of medical attention for his broken arm. Lard Nar kept it pressed tightly to his chest, but he doubted it was going to heal properly without a cast, no matter how much his former co-worker tried not to move it.

The bruises and scratches along his cellmate's arms and face were beginning to clear up. He wasn't sure if there were any other injuries hiding underneath Lard Nar's weird looking outfit, but he figured he'd find out when they went to the showers.

Shower day... was that today or tomorrow? That was one of the few times he could talk to other Vortians, so he normally looked forward to it even though they wouldn't be in there for very long. The first couple times he'd been too embarrassed to say anything since he and everyone else had been naked, but now he didn't care. No one did. Not when you spend most of your days in solitary confinement craving any kind of social interaction.

A few minutes of talking to someone who wasn't pretending to be dead would lift his spirits. He might even stop wishing he'd taken the Tallest's offer of freedom instead of sticking his neck out for a guy he barely knew.

_Lard Nar would have died,_ he reminded himself._ Yeah but he's slowly killing himself anyway_ he chided.

At least getting thrown out the airlock would've been a quicker way to go.

Then he heard the familiar clatter of the food trays hitting the floor. He turned and saw them lying there, near where the guards stopped the electrical current long enough to reach in and drop the trays. He sucked in a breath, and glanced at Lard Nar, hoping his cellmate would at least pretend to be interested in the food this time.

No such luck... the former rebel didn't even budge.

He hopped down from his chair and walked over to the trays. He picked up one and brought it over to Lard Nar's cot. "I'm not kidding," he insisted, placing the food right beside his cellmate. "If you don't eat something by the time I finish mine, I'm going to make you eat."

After making this threat, he gathered up the other tray and brought it over to his own cot. He sat down and ate the strange tasteless grey slop. It wasn't the greatest thing to eat, but it kept him full and hydrated, and it was definitely better than nothing.

Once he finished everything, he placed his empty tray by the force-field so the guards wouldn't need to come in. If they had to search for it, they'd probably kick him.

Lard Nar still hadn't moved... So this was it then. He was going to have to make good on his threat.

"Alright, I warned you," he said as he moved towards his cellmate's cot. "You're eating whether you want to or not."

He crawled onto the hard mattress, picked up the tray of food, and rolled Lard Nar onto his back. Before his cellmate could turn away, he straddled him, being careful not to touch his broken arm.

Dull yellow eyes suddenly sparked to life. Lard Nar stared up at him with the most frightened look he'd ever seen on someone. His cellmate lashed out, catching him across the face, but he didn't budge. Instead, he pressed Lard Nar's good arm down on the mattress and used his free hand to gather some of the grey stuff on a spoon, ignoring the stinging sensation across his left cheek.

Suddenly the guy playing dead turned into someone full of frantic energy. Lard Nar kicked and struggled to free himself. He turned his head away and grunted through clenched teeth as he squirmed underneath him.

"I warned you," he told Lard Nar, keeping his grip on his arm firm. "More than once! If you would just tell me why you're acting like..."

"I'm not bloody telling you anything!" Lard Nar snapped.

Prisoner 777 wasn't too sure where his cellmate got all his strength from... all he knew was one second he was on the cot, trying to get some food into the stubborn ex-rebel, and the next moment he was lying face up on the cold floor with grey mush splattered everywhere. He wiped some off his face and licked his fingers clean.

"Great... now the guards are going to murder me. Thanks a lot..." he spoke, wincing as he sat up. The floor was covered in the strange food slime, and his green prison clothes were also coated in the stuff. He was starting to feel a bit irritated by Lard Nar's erratic behavior. "You know, I did give up my freedom for your stupid life..." he muttered. "You could at least pretend to be grateful and not try to starve yourself to death right away..."

"Sorry..." Lard Nar murmured. He was propping himself up with his good arm as he surveyed the scene. With some difficulty, he slid off the cot and crouched down. "Are you hurt anywhere...?"

His back was sore, but he decided not to inform his cellmate of this. Instead, he waved away Lard Nar's question and he carefully rose to his feet. "I'll be fine," he spoke, trying to brush some of the goo off. "But you're definitely eating next time, ok?"

"Sorry..." Lard Nar murmured, lowering his eyes to the floor. His gaze hardened, and he began smearing a bit of the grey mush onto his own clothes. When he was finished, he flicked the leftovers from his hand and returned to his cot. "Tell them it was me," Lard Nar spoke with his back to him.

"So now we'll both get beaten..." he sighed and let his shoulders sag. "How is that supposed to help exactly?"

"Just say it was me..." Lard Nar insisted.

"Yeah, right, like I'm going to let you shoulder the blame by your..." he froze when he heard the familiar clacking of boots. The guard had returned. Oh crap. "self..." he finished, just as the electrical force field parted. The coward in him immediately wanted to hide himself under his cot or Lard Nar's cot, or the desk or... well those were the only places he could hide.

He stumbled backwards as the guard marched into the room.

Clack clack clack.

The sound of the Irken's heavy boots made his heart skip a beat. He forced himself to look up at the guard's face and quickly noted the irritated scowl.

"Number seven hundred and seventy seven..." the guard spoke, sounding every bit as angry as he looked. "What is the meaning of this?" he questioned, gesturing to the mess.

"That... well... you see..." Prisoner 777offered an uneasy smile and rubbed the back of his head. "I uh... well... how should I put it...?" _Funny story. I was trying to make my cellmate eat something, and I accidently ended up throwing food all over the place instead. Yeah, that would be an awesome explanation, not._

Before he could say something, the Irken snagged the front of his shirt and hoisted him into the air. He clutched at the guard's hands feebly, knowing he wouldn't be able to make guard let go.

"You're going to clean this up," the armor-clad Irken remarked, giving him a shake for good measure.

"Y-Yes..." Prisoner 777 agreed, managing a slight nod.

He stared wide-eyed at the shock-stick that was brought close to his face. Swallowing, he tried to wrack his brain for any kind of reasonable excuse he could find. There was none. Dang... he was going to get zapped until he was a twitching mass on the floor...

Pfft. Zappy happy. He should coin the term or something. Why was he thinking about that now?

"He didn't do anything..." Lard Nar spoke flatly. He slowly pushed himself into a sitting position and turned to glare at the guard. "I did."

Prisoner 777 let out a startled yelp as the Irken suddenly released him. He landed on the floor, his legs buckling, forcing him to sit. Blinking in confusion, he turned to the guard who had a twisted smile on his face.

Say... what...? Prisoner 777 tried to stand but found his legs weren't ready to cooperate. Darn cowardice was sure doing a number on his body. His hands were shaking and there weren't any words ready in his brain for his mouth to use at the moment, but he was working on that.

"So you thought you could get seven hundred and seventy seven to cover for you then?" the guard asked, grabbing Lard Nar by the horns and hauling him roughly out of the cot. The former rebel landed face down on the floor beside prisoner 777, yelping in pain as his broken arm was crushed beneath him.

"Er... wait... it was really me... that guy has barely moved in the last three days," Prisoner 777 stated after finding his voice. His mouth was dry, and he wished he could have sounded more confident... but he was pretty sure he would start stammering if he spoke any louder.

The guard wasn't listening to him anymore. Prisoner 777 stared, unable to move as he watched the scene unfolding in front of him.

"You know, the Tallest ordered us to punish you if you acted up," the guard hissed, slamming his boot down on Lard Nar's head. "We can do whatever we want. You aren't even on the radar."

"Irken... scum..." the ex-rebel managed to mutter.

The rage and hatred in the Irken's expression sent chills down his spine. He watched helplessly as the shock-stick struck his fallen cellmate again and again, electrocuting him and bruising him at the same time.

"N-No wait..." Prisoner 777 mumbled weakly, his eyes wide in horror. He'd never seen a brutal beating so close before. For some reason it looked much less painful from a distance. It was happening right in front of him though, and there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn't make himself budge.

The guard gave Lard Nar a few harsh kicks before finally letting up. He ran a hand through his antennae, breathing hard from exerting himself. His crimson eyes shifted to Prisoner 777 who was still frozen, his mouth open in shock and his eyes wide in disbelief.

"You," the guard spoke, pointing at Prisoner 777.

Pink-skinned Vortian flinched and slowly lifted his gaze to regard the Irken.

"Get him back into his cot. I'll bring you something to clean up the place," the guard's antennae flattened. "And you better clean it well. I don't want to see a drop of that stuff anywhere. Understand?"

"Y-yes..." Prisoner 777 replied breathlessly. It was nice to know that the food they were eating was referred to as 'that stuff.' Just what was it anyway? Was it even food? Did he really want to know?

As soon as the guard left their cell, he quickly scrambled over to Lard Nar's side. The former captain was probably unconscious after taking so many blows to the head and face. His free arm was covered in bruises from the nasty beating he'd just received; his good hand and his legs twitched from the electrical current flowing through his body, and his broken arm was pinned awkwardly underneath him.

"Oh gosh.." Prisoner 777 remarked, dragging a hand down his face. "You... oh gosh... you didn't need to... it wouldn't have been so bad if you let the guard zap me a bit..."

Lard Nar spat out a tooth and rubbed some of the blood oozing down his chin. He let out a painful hiss as he managed to carefully push himself up.

Apparently his cellmate wasn't as unconscious as he thought.

The ex-rebel's bleary-eyed gaze fell on him. "Are you... ok...?"

"Me!?" Prisoner 777 nearly shouted. "Just look at yourself! You're a mess!"

"Because I resisted..." Lard Nar told him wearily. "It's been like this... since my capture..." He cringed as he managed to force himself to his feet.

"Have you tried apologizing maybe?" Ok, it was a stupid thing to think the Irkens would simply forgive a prisoner with an apology, but he was so shook-up and he really didn't want to see anything like this ever again…

"I don't remember..." Lard Nar admitted, keeping his broken arm pressed to his chest. He carefully crawled back into his cot and returned to his usual position, slightly curled with his back facing his cellmate. "Thanks for rescuing me... but it would have been better... if you hadn't..."

"Why...? If you knew it was going to turn out like this... why did you tell me to blame you?" Prisoner 777 questioned as he climbed to his feet. "And why the heck would you put the blame on yourself?"

Lard Nar let out a sigh. "There's no point in both of us getting beaten..."

His cellmate was more concerned about his welfare...? Lard Nar was willing to take a thrashing if he knew the other person's punishment would be less severe?

"Don't do that anymore ok?" Prisoner 777 insisted. He brought a hand to his chest. "I can handle myself. Really. I've been in here for almost a year now."

"Mm hm..." for some reason Lard Nar didn't sound very convinced.

"No seriously, the most I've ever gotten was a few prods with their zappy stick," he laughed inside his head while maintaining a serious expression. Zappy stick? Maybe he just liked the word 'zappy.' "That strangling thing he did was just how they say hello here. It's fine."

"They'll do more... if they see we've been talking..." Lard Nar told him. He groaned as he shifted his position a bit.

"Is that why you've been ignoring me?" Prisoner 777 questioned.

His cellmate didn't answer.

"Because you know... the worst thing about being in this prison is not being able to talk to anyone all day," he gestured towards the spot the Irkens entered. "And most of them make horrible conversation partners. Believe me."

"I don't want to get anyone involved..." Lard Nar muttered.

"Involved in what?" he pressed.

Again his cellmate chose to ignore his question.

"You are a very frustrating person you know?" Prisoner 777 remarked.

He spun around when he heard the electrical field part. A bucket and a cloth were tossed into the room, and then the opening closed. The Irken hadn't even bothered coming inside. What a relief.

Of course since the bucket had in fact been thrown inside the cell... there probably wasn't any water in it. That meant cleaning things was going to be much more difficult. Fortunately the grey mush was water based... it's not like it was going to be stuck to the surface of the floor or anything... yet... if it dried that would be a whole different ball-game.

He'd have to lick it off probably, and that would be pretty gross. That's why he needed to clean it up quickly.

He was actually feeling a bit happy now that he had something to keep him occupied.

"Do you want help...?" Lard Nar asked him quietly.

Prisoner 777 turned to his cellmate and raised an invisible brow. "Look buddy, I'm bored out of my skull. If you help me, you're only going to make the cleanup go faster, which would be fine and everything only you refuse to help pass the time by making any conversation, which means I'll have to stay up and think until I hopefully pass-out."

He walked over to the cloth and bucket, stooped down, and picked them up. "So no. I'm good. Don't help me." Besides, it was completely his fault this happened in the first place… why did he think trying to make Lard Nar eat something would somehow workout ok? He wasn't going to try that again, that was for sure.

Just then his monitor started beeping. He blinked. Oh... someone was calling him. That someone was probably Zim. He took a quick look around to make sure none of the guards were watching before hitting the receive button.

"Hey Zim..." he greeted the small Irken. He always had mixed feelings whenever the little destruction bringer called him. On one hand the Irken was someone he could talk to for a few seconds... on the other hand, Zim was one of the reasons he was imprisoned in the first place. "What do you want this time?"

The last time the Irken called him it was for a top-secret Vortian doomsday device. Well, it hadn't exactly been for that, but he decided to offer it to the Irken because why not?

"I'm looking for a VP30 Hydrolic Destroyer if you've got one of those," Zim responded as a matter of fact, like it was just another day in the office.

"Yeah... about that..." Prisoner 777 began typing on his keyboard, searching the prison's database. "It looks like they just sent the last one to the planet Meekrob. I can get you the VP29 though. It'll be in pieces since I can't get the whole thing out at the same time without someone getting suspicious."

"Sure, that'll work."

"Did you want the blue prints as well?"

Zim bobbed his head. "Yes, that would be good."

"Okie doke." He sent a copy of the design plans and spent a few minutes hacking into the prison's database. He filled out the proper order forms and hit send. "There you go," he told the Irken. "Most of it should be there in a few hours, give or take."

"Excellent! With this I will be able to crush that pitiful hyuman!" Zim exclaimed before abruptly ending the transmission.

Yep... Zim was absolutely no help at all. Oh well.

"Do you do that often...?" Lard Nar questioned.

Prisoner 777 felt elated. Finally his cellmate was willing to make some idle conversation, and he still had the mess to clean up. And it could possibly be shower day. If it wasn't for watching Lard Nar get beaten, he would say today had been a pretty good one.

"Nah, just every once and a while our old pal Zim calls, asking for random things," he shrugged his shoulders. "Now you know my secret. If the Tallest ever found out I'm giving him stuff without permission, I'll be killed for sure." He tapped is chin. "Probably twice."

"Twice?" Lard Nar questioned.

"With our technology, it's totally possible," Prisoner 777 remarked humorously. He bent down and started using the cloth to wipe up the grey mush on the floor. He wrung it out into the bucket and repeated the process. "Promise me you'll eat something tomorrow."

"I will... try."

"Oh uh... I just found your tooth," he held up the sharp white piece of bone, coated in blood. "Do you want it?"

"No thanks..."

When he'd finished cleaning, he left the cloth and the bucket by the entrance and returned to his cot, hoping he would instantly fall asleep. He was disappointed. Hours passed by. He lay on his back with his arms folded behind his head, staring up at the ceiling.

* * *

**More Author's Notes:** Lard Nar wouldn't have been able to keep the tooth anyway since it could be considered a makeshift weapon or something. Just so ya know. Yup. That was pointless information. I might put some of that in here occasionally.

Zim just wants something to destroy the Dib with. He will probably remember he's trying to take over the Earth eventually… Oh well. What he's doing doesn't really matter. I make main characters into background characters and background characters into mains mwah ha haa. -cough-


	3. Chapter 3

**Warning and Late disclaimer:** OC alert! Also I don't own the Invader Zim universe, original characters, planets, snacks ect. There will also be some nakedness in this chapter.

* * *

**Life in Prison**

He must have fallen asleep at some point, because the next thing he remembered was the clacking of Irken boots. His eyes flew open, and he sat up quickly, causing him to become light headed and a little dizzy. He held is head and glanced towards the entrance, trying to focus his eyes on the guard entering the room.

"Both of you get up now!" a harsh voice snapped.

Prisoner 777 slid off his cot so fast he nearly fell flat on the floor. He managed to grasp the metal rim holding the hard mattress in place, and this kept him balanced. Wait a second... he frowned in thought. That voice sounded awfully familiar. He glanced up at the Irken guard's face and smiled.

"Bann, you totally freaked me out," Prisoner 777 complained, and he clutched his chest. "You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

The youthful looking guard with the shining purple eyes covered his mouth to muffle a chuckle. "Oh no. If you died on my watch I'd probably get demoted for letting you 'escape.'"

Prisoner 777 laughed at the Irken's joke. As far as guards went, Bann was the best. He was usually rotated between six other guards, so he was only assigned to this wing of the prison once every two months or so. He was still a rookie too, so it was unusual for him to be patrolling by himself.

"With your height you couldn't get demoted even if you tried," Prisoner 777 teased him.

"I don't know about that," Bann spoke, smirking. "There are still a few things I can't get away with."

"Like?" Prisoner 777 prompted.

"I'll let you know when I find something," Bann replied cheekily. He folded his arms across his chest. "Aaanyway. I heard the other guards grumbling about the mess you two made yesterday."

"Oh... ha... yes."

"Are you really that bored?"

"I'm so bored I need to invoke the wrath of the guards just to keep myself busy," Prisoner 777 lamented, placing a hand on his forehead and tilted his head back in a dramatic fashion. He would never think about acting like this in front of any of the other guards. Bann was very laid-back. The shock-stick the Irken carried always remained hanging at his side rather than in his hands.

"Do you want me to get you back into the Gigadoomer project?"

"Please."

"Alright, I'll have a word with the warden," his gaze turned to Lard Nar who hadn't budged at all on his cot. "Not easily startled is he?" His eyes narrowed as he approached the motionless Vortian. The blue-purple bruises covering the prisoner's head and face drew his attention. He stooped down for a closer look.

"By the way Bann... his arm is busted up pretty good..." Prisoner 777 told him. "Could you...?"

"I'm not really a medic anymore Triple Seven," Bann spoke, cutting him off.

"Yeah... sorry."

The young Irken guard carefully rolled Lard Nar onto his back. "Hey, I got promoted. There's nothing to be sorry about," Bann joked, trying to ease the tension. He noted the arm Lard Nar was clutching protectively against his chest. "But I'm not programmed to deal with..." he let out a sigh. "Heck with it. I'll be back with some bandages."

"You mean...?" Prisoner 777 looked up at him hopefully.

"Just because I changed job titles and got reprogrammed doesn't mean I've forgotten everything," Bann said, tilting Lard Nar'd head from side to side so he could get a proper look at his bruises. "Just don't ask me to amputate or anything crazy like that."

"Yes, I'd rather our limbs stayed on anyway," Prisoner 777 responded, catching a quick glance towards the entrance.

"I'm patrolling alone today," Bann informed him.

"Ah. I see. Congratulations."

"I'll be back," Bann spoke as he headed towards the downed electrical field. "I just have to finish my rounds."

"Sure. We're not going anywhere," Prisoner 777 remarked jokingly.

As soon as he left, Lard Nar sat up and rubbed his face.

"Oh, so you were awake then," Prisoner 777 commented.

"Don't get too attached to that guard..." Lard Nar told him, sounding very serious.

"What do you mean...?" he asked as he sat down on the edge of his cot. "Bandeval is the only decent guard in this place."

"Because he's most likely defective..." Lard Nar muttered.

"That's... that's not really a nice thing to say about someone who's being courteous to us..."

Lard Nar scowled at him. "Nice or not, he's going to get himself into trouble talking to the prisoners like that... just watch..." he lay back down, minding his broken arm. "He'll disappear soon enough."

"You're a big ray of sunshine aren't you?" he glowered at his cellmate's back. "I'll have you know Bandeval has been here for almost a full year without any incidents." At least he was pretty sure it was close to a year… maybe not. Time seemed to slow down drastically after their planet fell under Irken control.

Still, that word stuck with him. Defective. Was 'nice' not a highly sought after personality trait among Irkens or something? Wouldn't a defective Irken be someone who caused harm to the Tallest or the Empire? He couldn't picture Bandeval doing either of those things. Not like Zim anyway, and that Irken was still around...

It was kind of common knowledge that Zim was a true defect: something that hadn't occurred in "Irken production" since... well... a time before Miyuki's rule anyway. While there were Irkens with defects that could be altered or worked on in some way, a true defect couldn't be changed or 'fixed' to be compatible with the Empire. The only solution then was of course the reason the Irkens had planet Judgementia.

That planet was for death or deactivation, whatever you wanted to call it.

Most defects were 'taken care of' before they could cause any damage. Anyone who was odd or different, whose personality clashed with the norm of things... they could be marked as a possible problem but... How did the Empire, or the Tallest, determine who was a true defective and who had a few defects that could be worked with? Did it matter?

"He's just young," Prisoner 777 reasoned. "He hasn't been doing his job long enough to become jaded yet. I hardly think lack of life experience would be a problem for the Empire."

"The Tallest treat their people like tools... so don't get too attached to someone who doesn't fit with their ideals of a perfect soldier," Lard Nar warned.

"Do you really think I'd get attached to a guard?" Prisoner 777 questioned, cocking his head to the side. If Bann was ever killed he would probably mourn in secret for a while... mostly because there would be no reprieve from the other guards then. Bann wasn't his friend or anything… was he?

"Yes," Lard Nar answered him flatly.

"He's a nice guy, and believe me, you'll come to appreciate him more too after you've been here for a while and have to deal with Grumps, Angry-Sheela, Shocker, Pain, and Buckram."

The clacking of Irken boots against the floor still made Prisoner 777 nervous, even though he knew it was probably just Bann returning. Did he already complete his patrol...? That was awful fast...

He let out a sigh of relief when the purple-eyed guard stepped into their cell. "Sorry guys. Slappy decided to come monitor this wing. I can't shlerk off my duties until he leaves," Bann explained. "Good news though. You're up next for the showers."

"Yay!" Prisoner 777 exclaimed. The grey food mush he got covered in was dry and crusty. He was looking forward to getting a new set after the shower. "I can't wait to talk about all the ways we're going to escape with my fellow prisoners."

Bann laughed and shook his head. "Well hurry up and try something already. I need the exercise."

Prisoner 777 waggled a finger at him. "Good escape planning takes time."

"Be a dear and do it before I retire would you?"

"You can't retire though," A non- working Irken was a useless Irken... and a useless Irken was a burden on the Empire.

"True true. I'll work until I drop, or explode."

"What goes first, an Irken's body or their Pak?" Prisoner 777 suddenly questioned, curious.

Bann smirked. "Tell you what. If you're still alive when I'm on my death-bed, I'll call you and let you know." He placed his hands on his hips. "As much as I like bantering with you Triple Seven, we've got to start heading out, so could you wake your friend?"

"Oh he's awake," Prisoner 777 responded waving dismissively. "He's just choosing not to move, or speak, as per usual."

Bann raised an invisible brow. "No wonder you're so chatty then."

"Can you blame me?"

Bann chuckled. "I can and I will." His smile faded, and he breathed a sigh. "Ok sleeping one. If you don't move on your own, I'm going to have to carry you. I don't mind doing this, but I have a feeling you might so... do you think we can cooperate for now?"

Lard Nar rolled over and carefully slid off the cot, wincing in pain and clutching his broken arm tightly to his chest. "Fine..." he spoke, keeping his eyes lowered.

"Alright, both of you follow me then."

Prisoner 777 kept pace with Lard Nar. He placed his arms behind his head and started to hum as his eyes roamed from Bann's back, to the ceiling, to the other cells, drinking in as much as he could. He'd been down this way several times before, but it still beat the everyday view of his living space.

"Oop. Look serious now. Slappy is coming," Bann whispered.

Immediately Prisoner 777 dropped his arms to his sides and started chewing on his lip nervously while staring at the floor in front of him. They called the warden 'Slappy' because of his tendency to smack around the prisoners and sometimes the lower level guards as well.

"Bandeval," the warden greeted as he approached.

"Sygen sir," Bann acknowledged, dipping his head respectfully before rising to his full height. He was nearly as tall as the warden, but since he was still a bit shorter, he had to be respectful.

Prisoner 777 didn't need to see the warden's face to know when his eyes were on him. He felt a cold chill pass through his body, and he shuddered. He caught a quick glance at Lard Nar who was standing beside him, looking impassive if not a little bored.

It was odd that he, a fellow prisoner and former colleague, could invoke more fear in the ex-rebel than the warden could... a warden that was known for beating his prisoners. Or maybe Lard Nar was afraid and was just really good at hiding it.

"I've heard these ones have been causing problems," Slappy nodded towards the prisoners.

"There was an incident yesterday, but it's been cleared up as far as I know," Bann replied.

"As far as you know is right," Slappy spoke, his voice becoming harsh. "You're just a rookie guard, boy. It would be in your best interest to remember that."

If we started a 'Slappy is a Jerk' club, I wonder if Bandeval would join it, Prisoner 777 thought to himself, zoning out a bit. Could that be considered insubordination? Hm... The floor is very shiny today. Did someone clean it? Are there floor cleaning duties? I wonder who cleans the floor... I bet the prisoners do. Huh... why haven't I been asked to do it?

He snapped out of his thoughts when he noticed a shadow had fallen over him. He glanced up briefly, noting Slappy's irritated scowl. The floor looked better, so he dropped his gaze. Shoot. He was pretty sure the warden said something and he completely missed it. Was he supposed to respond? With what?

Better think of something...

"Wow this floor looks amazing," Prisoner 777 commented, and he caught Bann face-palming out of the corner of his eye. Apparently that had been...

"Yes, I do try to run a rather clean establishment," Slappy responded, sounding appeased for the moment.

The right thing to say? Alright then. When in doubt, compliment something. He'd note that for when he got himself into trouble later. It would probably happen too. The prisoners didn't have to do very much to tick off the guards.

"But you and your friends," the warden's attention switched to Lard Nar. "You made this establishment look bad by escaping..." he sucked in a breath. "Just looking at you irritates me. And now you think you can get away with whatever you want in here."

"Um uh..." Prisoner 777 did not like where this conversation was going. He glanced at Bann who was eyeing the warden with a worried frown. It didn't help that the 'establishment' Slappy was talking about happened to be their home planet, and he was a bit worried Lard Nar would say something to earn himself another beating.

"Sir... with all due respect... we're a bit behind..." Ban interrupted the so far one-way exchange as politely as he could.

Slappy turned abruptly to the guard, scowling. "I make the schedules. Do you think I would forget or shlerk them off?"

"No sir..."

Can we all please just get out of this without getting slapped...? Prisoner 777 thought to himself, shifting uncomfortably.

"Get going then," Slappy stated, waving them off before marching past.

Prisoner 777 exhaled; unaware he'd been holding his breath until now. He, Bann, and Lard Nar continued down the hall wordlessly until they were nearly at their destination.

"I thought he was going to hit you," Prisoner 777 told Bann, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Slappy was gone. He was. Long gone.

"Yeah well, when you didn't answer him, I thought you were going to be his target," Bann spoke.

"What was the question anyway?"

"You honestly weren't paying attention?"

"I sort of let my mind wander when I'm freaked out, or bored," Prisoner 777 admitted sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. "It helps me cope with stress and boredom and whatnot."

"He didn't ask you anything," Bann answered. "He just told you your rations would be cut in half for the next two weeks."

"Daaaang..." Prisoner 777 sighed and slouched a little. Oh well. It was probably a good time to go on a diet anyway. He didn't really get a lot of exercise, and he'd been helping himself to Lard Nar's rations for the past few days.

"So he was just waiting for my shocked and horrified reaction then?" Prisoner 777 asked.

"Yup, and then you started talking about the floor."

"How disappointing."

Bann chuckled. "No kidding."

"He should have been looking at your shocked and horrified expression then, if that's what he wanted," Prisoner 777 commented, smiling. It was always fun to have a bit of sport with the easy-going guard.

"Nah, the floor comment seemed to amuse him enough," he shook his head. "I honestly don't know how you got away with that."

"Yeah, me either." Prisoner 777's eyes shifted to the quiet ex-rebel keeping pace beside him. "And you're so quiet it's almost scary... don't you know how to banter?"

Bann stopped in front of a bolted titanium door that looked much more intimidating than it needed to. He snapped back the lock and carefully pressed open the heavy door. "I'll be back in five," he told them.

"Days? I'll be drowned," Prisoner 777 told him jokingly as he entered the dimly lit room.

"Just you huh?"

"Yep."

"You're a strange one."

"Thanks."

Lard Nar followed him looking around skeptically like he expected something bad was going to happen... like lasers or spikes suddenly shooting out of the walls maybe.

"You ok?" Prisoner 777 asked, narrowing an eye at his cellmate. He started to undress, not wanting to waste any time.

The captured rebel turned to him, startled. "Yes..." he muttered, lowering his eyes. He began chewing his bottom lip nervously.

"It's just water," Prisoner 777 assured him, tossing his shirt on the floor. "Do you need help er... I mean... with your arm broken... do you want me to...?" He pulled off his boots one at a time.

Lard Nar frowned slightly and took an uneasy step back. "No thank you..."

"Ok, but you might want to hurry a bit," Prisoner 777 said, slipping out of his pants. They joined his shirt in a crumpled heap. "We've only got five minutes."

"I remember..." Lard Nar muttered, sounding somewhat annoyed.

Oh right. His cellmate had been in prison before. He knew the routine.

"Ok... well... if you don't want any help then, I'll be in the showers," Prisoner 777 told him, pointing a thumb towards the opening at the other end of the small dark room. He turned and began walking across the slippery tiles very carefully. He did not really want to taste the floor again like last time. That had hurt pretty good.

"Hey," he greeted the other prisoners who were already underneath the shower heads, sitting around, chatting with each other while freezing cold water poured over them. The water was really really cold, and it took a bit of getting used to, but in some ways it was also refreshing. The cold kept the heart going anyway.

"Triple Seven!" one of the Vortians called him over, patting the floor beside him. "Come sit. We were just saying mean things about Slappy behind his back."

"Oh goodie," Prisoner 777 spoke, offering a grin. He quickly joined the circle, yelping a bit in surprise as the chilly water fell over him. There were four other prisoners besides himself. He turned to the guy beside him, the one who hadn't said anything yet and asked, "So how're you doing seven fifty three?"

The brown Vortian with short chocolate coloured horns shrugged his shoulders. "I 'accidentally' deleted a segment of the coding for the new Superior Canon, and they found out, so now they're investigating."

"It was nice knowing you," A light grey Vortian with twisted horns the colour of ashes remarked.

"Thanks seven four nine..." seven fifty-three said, letting out a sigh.

"How about you triple seven?" one of the Vortians sitting across from him asked. He had white skin and grey horns that were bent in two places. Prisoner 777 knew him as seven eighty two.

"Yeah, we've heard a lot of rumours about you," the small blue-toned Vortian sitting beside seven eighty two told him.

Prisoner 777 rubbed the back of his head ruefully and smile. "Really? Like what?"

"Like how you talked yourself out of getting executed," seven forty nine responded leaning forward a bit, eager to hear more about it.

"Oh that... it uh, wasn't really an execution... more like an interrogation..." he noticed Lard Nar slipping into the room, still holding his arm close to his chest. There were more bruises marring his grey skin. Prisoner 777 cringed in sympathy. Some of them were quite large. "And uh... I think the Tallest were in a strange mood that day. I got lucky."

He rubbed one of his arms nervously when all their eyes fell on him. They stared in obvious shock and amazement.

"You're kidding."

"You spoke with the Tallest?"

"What did they say?"

"Oh uh… apparently Zim made some control brains go nuts," he spoke, and he watched as the other Vortians deflated a bit.

"That's it…?" Seven fifty-three commented lightly. Everyone knew the Irken super computers would be repaired quickly enough, before any real harm was done.

"They know Zim killed the former Tallest now," Prisoner 777 remarked. "With no assistance from us."

Their faces lit up with smiles.

"Does that mean…?" Seven forty-nine ventured, sounding hopeful.

"It doesn't mean anything…" Lard Nar replied, alerting the other prisoner's to his presence.

Prisoner 777 glanced around, noting the surprised and confused expressions they wore as they looked at the battered and bruised ex-rebel, trying to recognize him. At first they all appeared to draw a blank. Then again, none of these prisoners had worked at Vort Lab Nine, and he was pretty sure Lard Nar hadn't been in prison very long before he escaped…

"You're fifty one…" seven eighty two spoke after a short pause. "You were in the other wing… twenty-nine told me. He said you escaped with a few others when the doors were still scanning DNA…"

"I did," Lard Nar responded. "I would like to give you some good news about the others, but I lost contact with them shortly after leaving Vort."

"Well, no one else has been brought in recently… so… that's a good sign right?" The Vortian with blueish skin questioned.

There was a round of agreement before more prison talk started up. Bann was only going to be in their wing for a week, and half the time he was going to be partnered with Burlap. The food most likely wasn't going to change anytime soon. There were a few guesses about what it was, but no one really knew for sure.

Then they started shivering, making the conversation harder to understand as they stammered through chattering teeth.

A small red light located near the entrance to the dark room started flashing, signalling them to dress and get out in a hurry if they didn't want to get dragged out. Everyone rushed into the next room, except for Lard Nar who was patiently dealing with his body's limitations.

Fast movement with all the injuries he had just wasn't possible.

Prisoner 777 stuck with him, pretending to dawdle or be lost in thought. He recognized Lard Nar's stubbornness, and he didn't really want to offend him. He'd have to live with the guy for who knows how long after all… it wouldn't be good if they ended up disliking each other.

After a few rushed goodbyes, the other four prisoners left the room and joined Bann out in the hall. They wouldn't talk to each other with a guard present, even if that guard was Bann. Everyone respected the young guard enough to not want to get him in trouble.

Lard Nar froze when he saw the prison garb he would be forced to wear. As he stooped down to pick it up, he let out a sigh.

"It's not so bad," Prisoner 777 tried to encourage him as he pulled his shirt on. He'd already dealt with his pants. Being quick was an automatic reaction now… he didn't even realize he was fully dressed until he reached for more clothes and found none. "I mean, they're not itchy or too tight or anything."

He received a hard glare from his cellmate. Ouch. Prisoner 777 flinched. If looks could kill he'd be a goner.

"Did you forget what it was like to be free?" Lard Nar asked, his voice bitter.

"Of course not," Prisoner 777 replied, feeling a bit defensive. "I'm just trying to make the best out of a bad-situation… you know…" He was going to ask if he needed any help, but after receiving the glare of death, he decided to simply stand back and let the former rebel dress himself.

Lard Nar's expression softened and he let out another sigh. "Sorry… it's just… you don't even call each other by your names…"

"The guards didn't like that," Prisoner 777 responded shrugging casually. He grinned. "So we started calling each other by our numbers. Of course we say them differently than the Irkens do. Like to them I'm prisoner seven-hundred and seventy seven, but to everyone else I'm 'triple seven…' er…" His gaze shifted to the red light. "We uh… we can talk more back at the cell…"

Or holding chamber. Sometimes he wondered if cell was the right word for it. It just didn't sound very… electrical. Pft… zappy room. Ok ok. Enough with the zappy.

But zappy did sound very electrical.

He blinked, trying to clear his thoughts. His mind never wandered so much when he was working on Vort Lab Nine or going to school, which was a good thing. He doubted he would have finished with top grades if he'd been constantly thinking nonsense all the time.

"Laes!" Lard Nar said forcibly and he felt the impact of a hand landing on his shoulder.

"Er… yes…?" Prisoner 777 responded, smiling ruefully. How long had his cellmate been trying to get his attention?

Wait… that was his name! Laes. Gosh he hadn't heard it in so long he'd almost forgotten what it was. Well not really, but still, it felt kind of good to hear his name after so long. "Please call me Triple Seven though," he added. "I don't want you to get beaten again."

"It will happen regardless…" Lard Nar muttered. The ex-rebel was dressed in the green prison uniform. After seeing him in that garish blue-outfit, the clothes really didn't seem to suit him. That and his shirt was crooked. Prisoner 777 tugged the ends down and straightened it a bit before his cellmate could protest.

"You never know. Maybe now that you look the same as the rest of us, they might forget their grudges a bit…" Prisoner 777 tried to encourage him.

Lard Nar scoffed, and then he smirked. "Have you ever known an Irken to forget a grudge?"

"Well…" he'd had limited experience with Irkens… the guards were certainly unforgiving, except for Bann of course. Zim was just crazy; he'd dish out revenge for the strangest things… "Not really," Prisoner 777 admitted.

The red light stopped flashing. They were totally late!

"Shooot!" Prisoner 777 remarked, snagging Lard Nar by his good arm and dragging him out of the room. If they were being escorted by anyone other than Bann, they would have been in so much trouble.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** I was thinking of Lays chips when I named Prisoner 777 … –facepalm-

Slappy's real name is Sygen. The guards' and the warden's nicknames just kind of popped into my head. Most of them are self-explanatory, but some are not.

Bann's full name is Bandeval. It comes from a character on "Earth: Final Conflict." There's a guy named Sandeval who acts as the secondary villain, and I liked how the name sounded with a B, so yeah. More random facts that have nothing to do with the storyline. Exciting no?

Oh, and Buckram is a type of stiff cloth.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Notes:** No rambling for me here today. I'm just going to post this long overdue chapter. Why did I think updating three fics at the same time would be a good idea? Oh well..

* * *

**Prisoner Number 0**

Prisoner 777 noticed his cellmate's number shortly after they'd been returned to the zappy room. Yes. He decided he would call it that.

Lard Nar of course returned to his cot and lay down with his back turned towards him. Prisoner 777 blinked. 0. Was that even a real number in the system? He was sure his cellmate must have had an actual number before he escaped. What was it? Fifty something? Why didn't the Irkens just reuse that one?

"Hey… uh…" he was trying to find the right words to say to the moody guy occupying the other side of the room. "You aren't going to start ignoring me again are you?"

He received no response. Prisoner 777 let out an indignant huff as he folded his arms over his chest. "Oh come on. We showered together. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

"That sounds wrong, and I don't have anything to say to you right now," his roommate mumbled in his usual irritable fashion.

"Your number is zero," Prisoner 777 told him.

"Yes… I know," Lard Nar muttered. He added, "I don't want you to start calling me that."

"How about Nil?"

"No."

"Null?"

Lard Nar heaved a sigh. "Would you just stop it?"

"What about Nix?"

"If you have to call me something relating to 0, then fine," Lard Nar said abruptly, before Prisoner 777 could continue listing every word meaning or having to do with the concept of zero off the top of his head.

"You hate it," Prisoner 777 noted, his hopeful expression crumbling. "I guess I'll call you by your real name and get punched in the face."

"You can call me whatever you bloody want," Lard Nar insisted. He remained unmoving.

"I'm just joking," Prisoner 777 decided to sit down on the edge of his cot. He was beginning to realize it didn't take much to get his cellmate riled up. "There's no need to get upset."

He slouched forward a bit. "You know, both my parents are still alive in here somewhere. There's not many old ones left. They kept dying from heart failure when they were zapped, but both of them managed to make it."

Lard Nar didn't respond to this, and after a while, Prisoner 777 decided to give up and try sleeping again. He lay down and turned over so he was facing the electric force-field.

"Mine are dead…" Lard Nar muttered quietly.

Prisoner 777 propped himself up and turned to look at the sullen former rebel. "I'm sorry… that must've been awful…"

"They didn't have many years left anyway…" Lard Nar spoke. It sounded like he was trying to console himself.

"I lost a sister a few years back, so I know what it's like to lose someone close to you…"

"I didn't lose them… they were taken by the Empire… killed…" he suddenly pulled himself into a sitting position and stared in horror at some unseen memory. "Just like… just like the others…"

"What others…?" Prisoner 777 asked him, unable to suppress his curiosity. He knew a few people that died in the prison, and he wondered if Lard Nar had known them too.

Lard Nar's distant gaze changed into a scowl as he glanced at Prisoner 777. "Nothing," he insisted. "Never mind."

"Why can't you tell me?" Prisoner 777 questioned in exasperation, and he flopped back down on the hard mattress. He turned his head to the side and sucked in a breath. Honestly, they were going to be cellmates for who knows how long…

"Because… I don't want you to know…" Lard Nar replied; his voice cracking.

"Hey… are you…?"

Prisoner 777 carefully rolled off the cot and walked over to Lard Nar who kept his head bowed to hide his tearful expression. He placed a hand on his cellmate's shoulder, hoping to reassure him.

"You can tell me whatever you want. I'll still be here at the end of the day, I promise." He offered a smile. "The Irkens won't kill me or anything…" he paused. "Well…. I can't really say that because they don't know about the stuff I've been smuggling to Zim, and they might think that's death worthy…" he cleared his throat, realizing he was slowly going off topic. "So uh… just tell me what's up ok? Then we can talk more and you won't have to worry about it accidently slipping out."

He didn't expect to be caught up in a hug-like situation. Prisoner 777 stiffened as Lard Nar's good arm wrapped around him and drew him down. Bent over, he tried to find something he could look at that might take away from the awkwardness. The room would look so much nicer with a lamp…

"They told me you were dead… a-all of you… the planet…" Lard Nar spoke; his words wavering. "It was gone… everything… because of me… because I resisted… there was nothing… nothing left… and it was my fault!" he blurted, and his small frame wracked with sobs.

His grip on Prisoner 777 tightened desperately, like he was worried the other Vortian could vanish at any moment. "They showed me… burnt buildings… dead bodies… it was…" he inhaled deeply, trying to calm himself. "It was a trick… virtual reality… but everything looked so real… they wanted me to crack… they were trying to wear me down… I had nothing to lose though… so I kept quiet… even when they broke my arm and forced things down my throat… s-submerged me in ice-water, shocked me, beat me… I don't remember saying your name, but I must have…

They forced things down his throat…? Prisoner 777's eyes widened. He tried to do the same thing, no wonder his cellmate reacted the way he did… and Lard Nar was even willing to take the blame for it.

"I'm sorry Laes…" Lard Nar's grip slackened and he moved to lie back down. "I wanted to free you all… I just… I never thought about what they could do to you..." he bit his bottom lip. "They could still… they might think I gave you information. I don't want that to happen… I couldn't live with myself if that happened…"

Prisoner 777 sighed and rubbed his temples. There were a few things he wanted to talk about. Where should he start? "Ok, first of all, if the Irkens suddenly slaughtered us all, it wouldn't be your fault."

He seated himself on the edge of Lard Nar's cot. "When someone kills a person, it's the killer's fault. You know that right?" Even if it was a terrible unfortunate accident like someone was swinging a hammer and this person lost their grip and the tool went flying through the air, and it crashed into another thing which caused the other thing to fall and fatally crush some guy… that had been one of the more bizarre incidents mentioned in the newspaper before the invasion. He figured right now was probably not the time to bring up random old news from the past though.

Lard Nar gave him a slight nod of affirmation.

"Secondly, you shouldn't feel guilty about saying my name. I got out of it alright, and it's not like you could help it," He placed his hand on Lard Nar's shoulder again to offer some reassurance.

"Heck, if I was put in your position, all of the names of my recently deceased relatives and old childhood friends I haven't seen since… well, childhood, probably would have spewed out of my mouth in some kind of semi-intelligible mess." He pursed his lips at the thought. "Yuup… and third… you need to talk to me about those kinds of things ok?" He shook his head and let out a sigh. "I almost accidentally tortured you yesterday without even knowing it…"

"I still shouldn't have reacted the way I did…" Lard Nar mumbled, curling closer to himself. "I didn't mean to hurt you…"

Prisoner 777 waved away his concern. "That didn't hurt at all."

"You were holding your back," Lard Nar stated.

"Oh… er… I was?"

"Yes."

"Well… it didn't hurt much… not enough for me to remember it hurting anyway."

"I'm sorry."

"No, I'm sorry," Prisoner 777 insisted. "You don't need to be sorry, you were just defending yourself. I understand."

"I'll try eating something today…" Lard Nar told him, sounding tired. "It's just... the mystery mush is kind of intimidating…"

Was that a joke? Could it be his cellmate was actually joking with him? Prisoner 777 cracked a grin. "Yeah no kidding. I'm almost afraid to find out what's in it."

"Blorch rats," Lard Nar responded wryly.

"Ughh!" Prisoner 777 made a disgusted face. "No way… that's disgusting! Now I know why you didn't want to touch…"

"That was the rumour right after the invasion remember? I wasn't being serious."

"Oh right…" Prisoner 777 rubbed his chin. "No one was able to disprove that rumour though… but even if it was Blorch rats, the supply would have run-out by now."

"I won't tell you about the latest planet they destroyed then."

"What was it?" he immediately asked, curious.

"Pestis."

"The planet with all the giant insect people?"

"Yes."

"Oh man…" Prisoner 777 buried his face in his hands. He perked up almost instantly when he realized his cellmate knew a lot about what was going on in the galaxy. He and the other prisoners didn't have access to that kind of information, and even when someone did manage to hack into an Irken database, everything was censored.

"What else is going on?" Prisoner 777 asked, glancing down at the rebel's pensive face. "Don't worry, the Irkens already know about it right? They won't hurt anyone for information they already have."

Lard Nar slowly exhaled. Had he been holding his breath?

"More victories for the Irkens…" the former captain mumbled. "Not much else…"

Prisoner 777 drooped in disappointment. "That wasn't nearly as exciting as I thought it was going to be."

Clack clack clack.

The sound of Irken boot-steps alerted both of the prisoners to the hall outside their cell. Bann must've finished escorting the other prisoners in the wing to and from the showers.

When the Irken guard stepped into the room, Prisoner 777's eyes focused on the large purple bruise under Bann's right eye. He brought a hand to his mouth and hopped off the cot. "Did he…?"

The young guard smiled. "A smack for a bandage," he held up the white square piece of cloth. "Not a bad trade if I say so myself."

"Oh jeez Bann… let me see," Prisoner 777 insisted, and the young Irken guard crouched down, smiling.

"Not much to see really," Bann said, allowing him to turn his face so he could get a better look at the bruise. "It just needs a bit of ice."

Bann didn't seem to mind physical contact. This was weird, because all the other Irkens Prisoner 777 knew hated being touched, especially by a 'disgusting' alien. Touching one of the guards for instance, even by accident, could earn a prisoner a few good shocks. Then the armoured Irken would step off the floor in order to disinfect themselves, and they would be grumpy for the rest of the day. Yeah. Normally it was better for everyone to maintain personal boundaries with their captors.

_Defective…_

Prisoner 777 pulled away and stared at Bann. There was that word again… why did his cellmate have to go say something like that? Bann was just nice, that's all. There was nothing wrong with him since he was still dutifully fitting into the mesh of his crazy society.

"S-sorry," Prisoner 777 stammered. "It looks like he really knocked you one… um… thanks for going out of your way to help… it uh… means a lot you know…"

Bann chuckled as he rose to his feet. "I do what I can," he said before switching his attention to Lard Nar. "It looks like the warden has a personal vendetta against your friend there. I overheard him talking."

"Before or after he hit you?" Prisoner 777 asked with an edge of cheekiness.

"Before, right around the time I failed at sneaking."

"I guess it's good you don't have a job that requires you to be sneaky eh?"

"Yes… I can only imagine how much failure would happen if I was something like an invader," Bann admitted with a smirk. "Oh, and after today I'll have Buckram following me around so…"

"No bantering?" Prisoner 777 questioned disappointed.

"Unfortunately."

"That sucks."

"You'll be fine," Bann encouraged him. "You've got your friend here."

"I meant for you."

"The only enjoyment I got from this job, taken away," Bann remarked humorously. "Oh well. I'm sure Buckram will provide some kind of conversation… about work. Or work. Hmm…" he scratched his chin. "He might even talk about work if I'm lucky."

"Pft…" Prisoner 777 covered his mouth to muffle a laugh.

Bann walked over to Lard Nar's cot and held out the bandage. "Is it alright if I take a look at your arm?" he asked.

The former rebel's grip tightened on his broken limb, and he kept his back to the Irken.

"That would be a no…" Bann noted. "That's ok. I won't do anything without your permission," he promised before regarding Prisoner 777. "I'll leave this for you alright? Help him tie it on. It'll keep his arm in place at least."

"Sure ok," Prisoner 777 agreed as he moved to take the triangular piece of cloth from the guard.

"You might also want to make sure the bone is lined up properly or he might not regain full use of his hand."

"Err… right…" Prisoner 777 agreed, making a face. He was pretty squeamish, so he wasn't sure he'd be able to do something like that. "Is it that bad…?"

"I would guess so," Bann replied. "I wasn't there for the interrogation… I usually find some excuse to keep myself away from that kind of thing, but I know the guards can break far stronger things easily."

After saying this, he turned and walked out of the room.

For a while Prisoner 777 stood there silently, listening to the crackling of the electrical current surrounding him. He let out a sigh and turned to his cellmate who hadn't budged at all. "Hey um… let's get this on you ok?"

"Do you trust that guard?" Lard Nar asked, still unmoving.

"He won't hurt us," Prisoner 777 replied in confidence as he approached the cot. "Now let's see if I can get this to work. Sit up and I'll try tying this…"

Lard Nar slowly moved to sit, gripping his useless arm close to his body.

"It would have been better for Bann to do this," Prisoner 777 told him, wrapping the white cloth over Lard Nar's broken limb. "He was a medic before he was a guard you know. You should at least let him take a proper look."

Once Prisoner 777 managed to somewhat fasten the bandage into a sling that was a bit too loose and the knot was too big, and heck, there was plenty of things wrong with it, but it was on at least. He returned to his own cot in order to get some sleep. It was either this or count-down the seconds to the next shower day, which would be in a week, same time and place, but probably with different people.

He was hoping to talk seven forty three who had recently lost his daughter to some unfortunate mishap in the labs. There had been a biochemical spill from what he'd heard. Very tragic. Three of the prisoners died choking on noxious gases.

This kind of thing wasn't new. Vortians were scientists, labtechs, researchers, and engineers. There were usually a few dangers that came with each job title. Even after the Irken occupation that hadn't changed.

"Laes…" Lard Nar spoke quietly.

"Mhm hmm?" Prisoner 777 responded, not bothering to open his eyes. "Call me Triple Seven," he added.

"Have you ever thought of escaping from this place?"

"Of course," he replied. "But the only time I was really serious about it was when I thought I was going to die. Did you see the grate in the room? I was thinking of making a mad dash for it… only I wasn't too sure you'd be able to follow, so I stayed instead."

"You didn't have to…"

"I might be a coward, but I'm not a jerk."

"At that point I was a goner anyway… a rebel captured by his enemies… left in a room full of angry Irken guards… I knew I wasn't going to make it out alive… I'd accepted it…"

"Hey, I had the same exact feeling," Prisoner 777 chuckled. "Minus the rebel part. The only thing I've done to 'rebel' is assist in making the invisibility cloak on the Megadoomer not hide the pilot. It was actually pretty funny. I don't know how they didn't catch it during the trial run. It was kind of obvious."

"You weren't caught…?" Lard Nar ventured.

Man it felt good to have a chattier roommate.

Prisoner 777 opened his eyes and rolled over to face Lard Nar across the room. The captured rebel was lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling.

"There were seventeen of us working on different parts of it, and the final touches were added by Irken engineers… so… I guess they weren't sure who exactly was to blame."

"You're lucky they didn't punish everyone involved."

"Yeah… I guess so. I never really thought about it much after the 'flaw' was discovered. Now they're working on an upgraded version of the Megadoomer, the Gigadoomer. I'm supposed to draw out the initial designs for the canons and come up with a new program for the auto-pilot. If those are approved I might be placed on the actual building team which will probably include five or six others under close watch of a zap-happy guard." He blinked. "Did you help build anything when you were in prison before?"

"Yes… but they were forced to scrap it."

"Why?"

"Because I designed it so the core would overheat and melt a few of the circuits needed for movement."

Prisoner 777 chuckled. "Awesome. Was it a battle mech?"

"It was a battle ship," Lard Nar corrected.

"Oh. That reminds me of the time we helped design the Massive."

"Don't remind me…"

"Yeah, I never thought it'd become a joy-ride for a couple irresponsible Irken teenagers either…" he sighed. "I kind of thought Miyuki would be alive for a while. It's too bad about that blob thing, you know, eating her."

"It also destroyed the lab."

"Yeah. And a second one too, but at least it stayed away from Vort."

"Miyuki was the only one who got eaten."

"That was a little weird," Prisoner 777 admitted. "It didn't even blink at us. Maybe we just didn't have enough energy for it or something. I did pull an all-nighter that night… Does that even make sense?"

"… since Zim was the one who made it… I'm not sure it needs to make sense," his cellmate responded.

Prisoner 777 fell asleep shortly after the conversation petered out. There was no point in staying awake once the talking stopped.

* * *

_Thunk!_

Wait… thunk?

Prisoner 777 stirred when he heard what sounded like something landing on the floor. His eyes cracked open, revealing a blurry and unfocused room. He blinked a few times, trying to regain his vision before propping himself up. "Hey Nix… what was that…?" he mumbled, only to discover Lard Nar wasn't even in the cell.

There was a box of something… a care package maybe? He stared at it for a while, trying to think of who would have sent him a box. His parents couldn't since they were locked up somewhere in the prison, and he didn't really know anyone on the outside.

It took him a moment to realize what it was. He smiled and shook his head. Of course! Bann said he'd get him working on the Gigadoomer project again.

He jumped out of bed and began digging enthusiastically through the box. Blank disks for storing information, a basic rough design for the battle mech printed on paper, and an updated list of demands from the Irken authorities. Perfect! He was going to have fun today.

He snagged one of the blank disks and the basic design graph and headed over to the computer. He popped the empty one into a slot and… the program needed to be updated. Ok. Downloading the upgrade. Hit the x on the random advertisement. Really? Some things never changed…

Alright. Download completed. Installing… one percent.

A few minutes later… one point five percent.

Prisoner 777 let out a long sigh and returned to his cot. This was going to take a while.

He gripped his mid-section, suddenly aware of the gnawing emptiness inside him. Since their rations were cut in half, they wouldn't get any food until evening. He'd just have to daydream about Vort-dogs and pancakes until then.

He was right in the middle of imagining a big buffet when the force-field parted. He sat up, wiping some drool from his face. His chest constricted and his eyes widened as he watched his cellmate get thrown onto the floor.

Lard Nar was battered and bloody. His eyes were closed and he was breathing heavily.

Prisoner 777 jumped off his cot and scrambled over to his cellmate's side. "Nix? Lard Nar!?" he blurted. "Oh gosh… oh oh… what do I do?" He looked around, hoping maybe the answer would be on the floor or force field somewhere.

No such luck…

He wasn't sure if it was safe to move Lard Nar from where he was, so Prisoner 777 grabbed his own pillow and brought it over to the badly beaten Vortian. He carefully lifted Lard Nar's head and tucked the pillow underneath.

He could feel the fresh warm blood on his hands. Cringing, he held one of his hands out for inspection. It was red. "Guaah!" He fell backwards in surprise, gasping for breath. This was too much… he hated seeing blood, and now it was on him and… he closed his eyes. That was a bit better.

Wait, what was he doing? Lard Nar needed his help. But he didn't know what to do…

If only Bann would come… he'd know what to do.

He opened his eyes when he heard Lard Nar groan. Really? Couldn't that guy stay fainted, especially when being awake would hurt like helk?

"Laes…" his cellmate spoke softly.

"Y-yes, yes I'm here," Prisoner 777 stammered.

"Are you… ok…?"

"Would you… why are you asking me that…?" Prisoner 777 questioned.

"They didn't… you're ok…?" Lard Nar pressed, sounding worried.

"I'm fine," Prisoner 777 replied; the room started to blur as tears entered his vision. No. Shoot. Get a grip. Lard Nar was in pain, and all he could do was cry about it?

His cellmate breathed a sigh of relief. "Good…"

Prisoner 777 watched as Lard Nar closed his eyes and relaxed. His cellmate must have lost consciousness for real this time.

He grabbed the thin blanket from his cot and used it to cover the injured rebel… that's what the Irkens saw Lard Nar as… a rebel; a danger to their Tallest. No one ever threatened Irk's Tallest and got away with it, but this… just what were they doing?

He sat down beside Lard Nar's still form and stared at the electrical current buzzing around them. He wasn't sure how much time passed when he heard the sound of heavy footsteps approaching their cell. Feeling a bit protective over his hurt cellmate, Prisoner 777 positioned himself between the entrance place and Lard Nar.

"I came as soon as I heard…" Bann spoke as he entered the room. His face looked a bit pale and he kept glancing behind him like he expected someone else to suddenly appear. "How is he? Did you check for breaks?"

"Bann…" a feeling of relief flooded through him. He wiped away a few stray tears and managed a smile. "No, I uh… kind of freaked out with all the blood…"

"It's a good thing you're not a medic then," Bann half-joked as he crouched down beside Prisoner 777 and began checking Lard Nar over.

"Is it bad? Is he going to be ok?" Prisoner 777 questioned him anxiously, placing a hand on the young guard's shoulder and leaning in, forcing himself to take a better look.

There were two long gashes running across Lard Nar's chest… maybe from a sickle? The guards carried those around too sometimes, usually not inside the prison because they were so bulky to hold… the wounds were bleeding badly, and there seemed to be scald marks on his hands and arms where his skin was red and swollen with blisters beginning to form.

"Oh Ganre…" Prisoner 777 covered his mouth and turned away. He felt like vomiting.

"Go lie down before I have two people I need to treat," Bann said, pointing at his cot.

Boy was he useless… Prisoner 777 slowly stood up and trudged over to his sleeping place which was currently lacking everything besides the rock-hard mattress. He lay down and curled into a fetal position, trying to think of things that wouldn't result in him puking.

Bann came and left a few times. Prisoner 777 didn't move or speak at all. He felt horribly guilty over the fact he couldn't stomach the sight of blood and seared flesh very well. Instead of being all nauseous, he should be helping…

Forget this. He would help even if he barfed all over the floor!

He sat up and slid off the cot, ignoring the wave of nausea and dizziness that followed. After taking a few deep breaths to regain his bearings, he stumbled over to the other cot. Bann must have decided to move Lard Nar from the floor onto the slightly more comfortable mattress.

His cellmate was still unconscious, thank goodness… Bann had taken the time to wrap Lard Nar's burns in adhesive bandages and rewrap the sling. It looked much better now than it had before.

Prisoner 777 wondered if he should practice knot tying the next time he was bored to death.

Clang! Clang!

He nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard metal hitting metal. He spun around to face the entrance area only to find the food trays sitting on the floor. Oh sure. Now they get food. He breathed a sigh.

"Laes…?" Lard Nar murmured. The sound must have woken him up.

Prisoner 777 turned to face his injured cellmate. "Y-Yeah?" he stammered, still a bit shaken from the whole thing. "How are you feeling? Do you want me to do something? I mean… I don't really know what to do, but if you need me for something, I'm right here ok?"

"I…I'm a bit… thirsty…" Lard Nar admitted as his eyes slowly opened, bleary and unfocused.

"Err…" water was kind of a luxury item in the prison since the grey mush stuff served to both hydrate and nourish the prisoners. "The only thing we have is the 'stuff' they give us to 'eat,'" he told his cellmate. "Is that… will that be ok?"

"Yes…" Lard Nar agreed, moaning as he tried to move his good arm.

"Hey hey, just… don't move ok?" Prisoner 777 remarked, scooping up one of the trays and rushing over to his cellmate's side. "Bann just got you bandaged up."

"Hurts…" Lard Nar mumbled, squeezing his eyes shut. He ground his teeth and let out a pitiful whimper. "It… won't stop…" Tears trailed down his face. "They won't stop…"

Prisoner 777 cringed and clutched the tray tighter in his hands. His chest constricted painfully in his chest as he slowly exhaled. He didn't get angry easily, but he was furious right now. Livid even. If a guard came in who wasn't Bann, he wasn't too sure what he would do. He wanted to punch an Irken in the face for this.

_Be calm… anger never helped anyone inside the prison…_ he mentally told himself.

_Unless they had access to explosives,_ another part of his brain added. "Ok… I'm going to help you sit…"

Lard Nar brought his good arm underneath him and attempted to sit up without assistance. His arm trembled and he moaned painfully.

"No jeez, look, let me help you," Prisoner 777 insisted, switching the tray to one hand and grasping his cellmate by the shoulder. He slowly pulled Lard Nar into a sitting position, wincing each time his wounded cellmate moaned or whimpered.

Once he was sure Lard Nar could hold himself up, he removed his hand and grabbed a small plastic spoon sitting on the edge of the tray. He filled it and brought it close to his cellmate's mouth.

Lard Nar turned his head away.

"I know it looks gross," Prisoner 777 said. "But it's the only thing we have… it helps if you can imagine its pudding or cereal or something less… disturbing."

"…I'm sorry…" Lard Nar muttered. "You don't… have to do this…"

"Are you saying you'd completely ignore me if this ever happened to me?" Prisoner 777 pressed.

"N-no…" Lard Nar spoke; his voice waning.

"Then don't expect me to do that ok?" Prisoner 777 said, offering a small half-hearted smile.

His cellmate turned to him with tears still running down his face. "Y-Yeah… Ok."

* * *

**More Notes:** I felt a bit bad for thinking about chips when I named prisoner 777 for this fic, so I decided to look up his name with the spelling I used, and I'm happy to report it means several non-chip related things. It also seems to be a normal last name.

I like doing that: naming a character something then going to check later if their personality ect matches the meaning of their name. Frequently it does not.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's notes:** Good news everyone! Thanks to my latest relationship fail I will have more time to edit and post fanfiction.

I also don't own Invader Zim.

Also, I might have been watching a bit of Futurama which has now influenced my notes.

Oh well. Enjoy the carnage. I mean, uh... the fun?

* * *

**Computer Fail**

The deadline was in three days! Three whole days! It was a good thing he didn't have anything else to do, otherwise he'd have given up and started knitting or something. Of course, the prison didn't really have yarn and they sure didn't have needles for obvious reasons; suicide and rebellion being the obvious two.

It would probably take more than a couple knitting needles to encourage the other prisoners to go against the guards. Still, the thought of a scientist leading a cellblock against their oppressors with knitting needles of doom had been filling his mind since morning.

Be defeated by pointy objects Irkens! Mwah ha haa… Ok, he really wasn't getting anywhere with his designs anymore, and his thoughts were become increasingly weird. He decided to abandon his blueprints at his desk and check on his silent cellmate.

Lard Nar hadn't said a word all day. His eyes were closed tight and he was cringing in discomfort. Prisoner 777 managed to get him to eat a little something the day before. Then Prisoner 777 actually fell asleep on his cot without the pillow or blanket which were both being used to make Lard Nar more comfortable.

He woke up feeling stiff and a bit sore, but he knew that was nothing compared to the pain his cellmate was experiencing. The thought of getting sliced open or burned made him shudder. He didn't even want to imagine it…

Bann hadn't been back. By now he was probably patrolling with Buckram. The young guard usually pretended to be a bit more distant around the prisoners when he was with someone else. Most of the Vortians were fond of Bann and eagerly played along so he wouldn't get into trouble. Until Bann was alone, Prisoner 777 also pretended not to know him. There would be no secret smiles or winks. It was purely business.

But now Slappy obviously knew, or had some idea, of the young guard's 'questionable friendships with the enemy.' It was a little worrying… but the Irkens respected those taller than them, and Bann was pretty tall. Slappy was taller of course and Pain probably was too, just barely. The other warden, Scowly, also had a height advantage over the young guard.

Those three were the only ones taller than Bann though, at least from what Prisoner 777 could tell. Even though he'd worked for Irkens most of his career, he was still not too sure what to think about their odd fixation with height.

Then again, he doubted Vort's fixation with intelligence would make sense to the Irkens.

Lard Nar was sleeping restlessly, grinding his teeth and letting out a few soft whimpers when his movements aggravated his injuries. He looked like he was having a nightmare. With everything the captured rebel experienced at the hands of his captors, he probably wouldn't have good dreams for quite a while.

Prisoner 777 sat on the edge of his cellmate's cot and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. His young niece used to get nightmares right after her mother died, but she always calmed down if he was there. This situation seemed pretty similar, so he thought he'd give comforting a try.

He felt his cellmate's tense muscles relax, and Lard Nar curled a bit closer to him. Success. Only he didn't want to wake his cellmate, so he couldn't really move… He should have thought about that before.

Oh well. Even if he didn't get any work done on the Gigadoomer today, he still had two more days.

Right now he should be thinking of the best way to sabotage the darn thing. At the moment, he wanted it to explode into a ball of fiery devastation… but that would only end up hurting the Vortian test-pilots… unless… he was pretty sure he was clever enough to stay the effects of said fireball until it was actually on the field, but then he would require direct access to the device's main operating system.

He would need to get himself on the build team, find a way to distract the guards long enough for him to sabotage the main hardware, and not get caught. It all sounded very simple, but plans he knew could easily go wrong at any time. Besides… did he really want to kill a random Irken because of what the guards were doing here? Of course the invaders weren't exactly 'innocent.' They were the ones who weakened civilizations enough for the armada to come and rain down destruction until the poor inhabitants were either destroyed or they surrendered and became slaves.

When he thought about it like this, how could he possibly have sympathy for the enemy? Irkens were evil. They killed innocent people all the time.

Still… he couldn't quite ignore the small voice inside him telling him not to do it. Why not? He wondered irritably. They deserve it!

It was settled then. Ignoring his conscious, he would go through with his plan. Vort helped them destroy civilizations even before the invasion, his mind told him in a most unhelpful manner. Maybe he would wait a while and think about it some more.

A couple hours later, Lard Nar woke up and found himself clinging to Prisoner 777 much to his embarrassment. "Sorry…" he mumbled, quickly releasing his cellmate who woke with a start.

"Huh? Ah… oh…" Prisoner 777 looked around, and then settled his gaze on Lard Nar. "You're awake."

He yawned and stretched. Apparently he'd fallen asleep sitting up. "Are you feeling any better?"

Lard Nar held out his good bandaged arm and frowned in confusion. "Why…?"

"Bann fixed you up, remember?" Prisoner 777 said.

"Oh…" he slowly lowered his arm back down.

"So…" Prisoner 777 shifted his gaze between the floor and his cellmate. "What… uh, happened...?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Lard Nar asked sounding a little annoyed.

"Yes well… er…" Prisoner 777 fidgeted. "You were gone when I woke up… so the whole time… I guess you were…?"

"Getting tortured?" Lard Nar finished dryly. "…Yes."

"I'm sorry…" Prisoner 777 apologized. "I just… I thought I was helping you when I saved your life… but now I can totally see why you'd be ticked at me…" He rubbed one of his arms and chewed his bottom lip.

Lard Nar sighed and his expression softened. "No… it's not your fault… remember what you said before? It's their fault, not yours or mine." He paused for a moment, before adding: "all we can do is choose how to react, and what to think about this… at first I was just angry. I was angry at you, the Irkens, and the whole bloody situation… but…" he let out another sigh. "I'm glad… I had a chance to speak to you… and the others… I got to be with my people again at least…"

"You sound like you're dying…" Prisoner 777 noted, worried. "You're not dying… are you?"

"If this continues…" Lard Nar trailed off as he stared up at the ceiling. Vortians weren't the most hardy race… their bones were just as breakable as most races' were (if not more so) and they didn't recover nearly as quickly as some people could. There was only so much he could endure before his heart gave out or he bled to death.

"They told me they won't stop…" he whispered. Tears gathered in his eyes. "They'll keep torturing me until I die… I… I can't take it Laes… please…" He sucked in a breath as his tears spilled over. "Kill me…"

Prisoner 777 stared, his mouth agape. Maybe he didn't hear him right…? Yes. That had to be it.

"I'd rather die at the hands of my own kind… than to be killed by Irkens…" Lard Nar spoke, squeezing his eyes shut.

"... I can't… kill… I mean… anything… but especially another Vortian…" Prisoner 777 fumbled for the right words. "I uh… I'm sorry… but I can't do it…" Besides, there was a lack of things that could be used for killing. The Irkens did this on purpose. His mind of course had already found a solution. He could use a pillow, but no! There was no way he would ever do such a thing.

"I know…" Lard Nar admitted wearily. "I know… but… I thought I'd try anyway… sorry…"

An awkward silence passed between them. Then Prisoner 777 coughed into his hand. "So uh… besides erm… that… is there something I can do um… for you?"

"No… it's ok… just forget what I said…" Lard Nar told him, turning away. "Just being here is enough..."

"You're sure?" Prisoner 777 pressed.

"Yes…"

"You… you aren't giving up are you?" he asked. "I mean, you still have followers out there right? They're probably worried about you. What kind of message would you be sending them if you died now?"

There was another pause. Prisoner 777 glanced at the monitor, wondering if he should begin working again or if he needed to continue comforting his depressed cellmate. He really wasn't sure what else he could say.

"That what we're doing is hopeless… that they should get as far away from the Empire as possible…" Lard Nar answered him quietly. "Before they die too…" the last part of his sentence was barely audible, but Prisoner 777 managed to hear it.

"You're worried about them," he concluded.

"Of course I am!" Lard Nar exclaimed; his eyes snapping open as he propped himself up. "They…" he winced, his not broken arm could barely hold him in this position. "They could be killed or tortured to death, and I have no way of helping them now!"

"Please calm down…" Prisoner 777 tried, raising his hands in defence.

"Calm down…?" Lard Nar repeated. "Calm down!?" he shouted. "The Irkens are hunting my crew! I know because they're always bloody asking me where they bloody are! I don't even want to imagine what those blastards will do to them i-if…" he wavered, and his arm buckled and he ended up falling on his back. He let out a painful groan. The gashes in his abdomen couldn't be doing very well under that kind of movement.

"You ok?" Prisoner 777 asked him in concern.

"I'm… I'm sorry Laes…" Lard Nar mumbled. "It's not your fault… I shouldn't be angry…"

Lard Nar was having more ups and downs than any of the technicians he'd ever worked with. Then again, torture was a very valid reason for this. He couldn't imagine how he'd react if he was in Lard Nar's position.

"Ah um… hm…" Prisoner 777 tapped his chin thoughtfully. He wasn't too sure how he should respond. Trying to be positive only seemed to piss off his cellmate… he should try something different. "Yeah well… I'm not always a big ball of sunshine myself," he admitted. "Like today… you know. Seeing you hurt like this makes me pretty angry."

"Don't do anything reckless…" Lard Nar warned him. "You don't want their attention… if they started on you…"

"I'd probably die before they did anything," Prisoner 777 joked, tapping his chest. "I'd have a heart-attack in self-defence."

Bann would have laughed. Lard Nat just stared at him with an unamused expression on his face. Apparently his cellmate didn't consider death a very funny topic.

"No really. I'd make a horrible torture victim. A couple shocks from their zappy stick and I'm already unconscious. That actually happened once… I also get sick when I see blood, so if they tried something I'd barf on them and then faint probably."

"Are you serious…?" Lard Nar questioned, raising an invisible brow.

Prisoner 777 shrugged. "I've already done both. Not at the same time, but still."

"Laes…" the look his cellmate gave him was a bit hard to read. It was either concern, sympathy, pity, or a combination of the three. Why was he still trying to read facial expressions anyway?

"Yeah… I can't really say I have much dignity or self-respect left, but what can you do? Those things don't really help you in prison anyway…" Prisoner 777 chuckled, rubbing the back of his head ruefully. "I keep thinking maybe one day I'll redeem myself. I'm not sure how though."

"You've already stood up to the Tallest and a room full of guards… you talked back to the warden…"

Prisoner 777 raised a finger and cut in. "I'm not sure that one counts because I did it by accident."

"Regardless… you've done more than most people."

"You've done the most though, I mean, you escaped from prison, formed a resistance, and you still call the guards 'scum' to their faces."

"And look where it's gotten me…" he sighed. "Locked up… continuously tortured… paranoid that they're going to kill the people I know… and in constant pain…" he slowly moved to rub his eyes.

"So you're saying you wouldn't recommend the rebel profession to anyone else then?" Prisoner 777 ventured with a hint of humour. He wondered briefly if he was being too insensitive, but, well… he wasn't too sure what else he could say. Besides, it sounded like Lard Nar was also joking around a little bit, maybe.

"I wouldn't place it in the top ten," Lard Nar said. "It's dangerous… there are no benefits, and the pay is lousy..." Yes, the former captain was definitely joking around, even though his monotone voice was making him sound indifferent.

Prisoner 777 chuckled. "Ok. I'll keep that in mind."

He spent the rest of the day at the monitor, typing up codes for the first level of the basic auto-pilot and designing different types of canons that could possibly be attached to the front of the Gigadoomer. He also added smaller canons underneath the first ones and ran a few digital simulations in order to get their lines of directory working properly.

He was so focused on finishing his design; he didn't hear the guard come with the food. Should he include colour? Yes. Bright fuchsia. Irkens seemed to like things more if they were red, pink, or purple in colour. This was a proven fact.

"Are you going to eat?" Lard Nar asked, snapping Prisoner 777 out of his concentration.

"What huh?" He turned to look at his cellmate who was lying motionless in his cot. His eyes shifted to the metal trays on the floor. "Oh. Is it that late already?" he asked, blinking. He'd been staring at the screen for hours.

After saving his files, he fetched the two trays of 'that stuff' and brought them over to Lard Nar's cot. He took a seat on the edge of the mattress and waited as his cellmate carefully propped himself up before handing him one of the trays.

"You're eating too," Prisoner 777 insisted.

"Yes yes…" Lard Nar replied as he picked up the spoon and began stirring the grey slush around.

Prisoner 777 started eating right away. The mush was not something to be savoured. Its texture was gross, it looked weird, and it didn't really have any flavour. Seriously, if he could just access the labs for one hour he'd run tests to find out what exactly they were being fed….

And he just bit into something that wasn't mushy… It was in his mouth! Gross. He pulled it out. Seriously what could a chunk of… paper? Was it paper? Where did the Irkens get paper from? It was probably some kind of sub-paper made out of non-tree like substances… unless of course they'd taken over a planet with actual trees.

"What are you doing…?" Lard Nar asked, noting his cellmate's surprised expression.

"There's paper in here…" Prisoner 777 responded as he pulled a folded square out from the mush. He shook off some of the goo before slowly unfolding it. The writing was in Irken.

_I'm so freaken bored. If Buckram talks about shoe-polish one more time I just might kill him._

_Anyway, how's the Gigadoomer project going? I heard the smiley-face virus is still going around, so be careful and backup your files._

_-Bann_

Prisoner 777's eyes widened. He dropped the paper and moved the tray off his lap before hurrying over to the computer. The screen was flashing. No no! He tried typing, but nothing happened. Shoot! There was no choice but to reboot.

He did, and a big yellow smiley face appeared as the screen loaded.

"HA HA HA! YOU GOT SMILED! HA HA HA!"

"Nooo!" he wailed, sinking to his knees. "The smiley face! The smiley faaace…" All of his work was gone. He was going to have to start from scratch, which meant wiping the hard-drive, redownloading the design program, and typing out all those codes.

This was the work of Prisoner 33; the guy they blew up using the DNA scanners. The virus was the reason he was chosen to explode, but even though the Irkens had been working on clearing the mainframe of this annoying little bug, it was still there.

Talk about leaving a legacy.

"Do I even want to know…?" Lard Nar questioned him dryly.

"Remember the smiley face virus?"

"Yeah."

"It just struck again."

"Oh…" Lard Nar frowned. "They still haven't gotten rid of that thing?"

"To be honest, I think a few of the top programmers have been keeping it around on purpose," Prisoner 777 said. "I mean it does do a pretty good job messing up the system…" He sighed and ran a hand down his face. "Well, on the bright side I have more stuff to do now. Still, it's just a tiny bit frustrating when all your work gets deleted."

"HA HA HA YOU GOT SMILED! HA HA!"

"Prisoner seven hundred and seventy seven! Turn that thing off right now!" Buckram shouted from…

"Gah!" Prisoner 777 recoiled when he realized the guard was standing just outside the barrier.

The Irken guard rolled his eyes as Prisoner 777 jumped to his feet and hurried over to the computer.

"HA! YOU GOT SMILED! HA HA HA! NICE TRY! HA HA HA! THAT WON'T WORK! HA HA!"

Frustrated, Prisoner 777 reached behind the monitor and pulled the plug.

"HA HA!"

"Oh come on! You aren't even connected to a power source!"

"HA HA HA! I AM MY OWN POWER SOURCE! HA HA HA!"

Stupid intelligent viruses…

Prisoner 777 slowly turned back to the guard, and with a weak smile, shrugged his shoulders helplessly.

Buckram was a good head shorter than Bann was, still, all of the guards towered over the prisoners. The armour they wore and the shock sticks they kept at their sides were good reminders that they were always ready for a confrontation. Indeed, they were ready to win any confrontation. They always did too. Win. Except when it came to the virus.

"HAHA! I MAKE TROUBLE FOR YOU! HA HAA! HAHAHA! BOW TO ME YOU INFERIOR INSECTS!"

When Buckram entered the zappy room, Prisoner 777 quickly backed off from the computer. The guard looked the device up and down before removing the shock stick from his belt and…

Smash! Crash! Wham!

"Haa haaa ha…. I live on… Heaa…. Stuuupid Irkensss…" The speakers and everything else died as Buckram smashed the crap out of the device.

Prisoner 777 brought his arms up to protect himself from the flying debris. When Buckram was finished with the computer, it was nothing more than a pile of scrap parts piled on the floor.

"Well that was… uh… destructive…" Prisoner 777 commented as he slowly lowered his arms.

"And effective," Buckram responded, placing the zappy stick back in its place and dusting off his gloved hands.

"So um… what should I do with the…?" Prisoner 777 gestured to the pile of former computer.

Buckram's crimson eyes narrowed at him. "Nothing. We'll cart it out of here."

"Oh. Ok. That's um… thanks."

The guard turned on his heel and strode out of the room, grumbling something under his breath.

"Well… that was exciting," Prisoner 777 commented, turning to Lard Nar. His cellmate was staring up at the ceiling with a blank expression on his face. He slowly walked over to the cot, and he poked Lard Nar in the forehead. "Hey, Vort to Lard Nar. He's gone now."

Blinking, his cellmate's eyes focused on him. "Sorry… what were you saying before…?"

"That's a good question," Prisoner 777 remarked, grinning as he rubbed the back of his head. "I have no idea."

* * *

**Random Facts: **A reference to Duck Dodger's annoying alarm clock, the smiley face virus is also used to cause severe irritation to all those unfortunate enough to be its victim. Also, I haven't given any of the guards "real" names. I only know them by their nicknames too. Also Buckram's nickname has changed several times already. Sighh.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Notes: **Hello! I know I've been amazingly slow with updates again, but I was silly and started working 11 hour days on the 1st of this month. I just finished with that last Friday. More updates will be coming soon-ish, probably.

* * *

**Psychological Torture?**

Bann was gone. He'd been patrolling with Buckram at the beginning of the week, or was it the end? Oh well, it didn't matter. What mattered was for the last three days he was nowhere to be found.

At first Prisoner 777 thought that maybe Bann had been transferred to the next cellblock earlier than normal… but the Irkens were very uptight about maintaining order and such a transfer had never happened in the past. Besides, the tapping system prisoner 626 worked out to communicate with other cellblocks had made its full circle, and no one has seen Bann.

Prisoner 777 sighed for the umpteenth time that day. None of the guards were willing to share what happened to the rookie. There was speculation he'd been reassigned someplace else, probably on a newly acquired planet.

Lard Nar didn't have anything to say about it. He didn't even say "I told you so."

"If you're going to keep sighing loudly, could you please go back to your own cot?" Lard Nar muttered in irritation.

Prisoner 777 glanced at his cellmate lying beside him. The cots weren't very large, and while Lard Nar was trying to keep to himself, Prisoner 777 was lounging quite happily with his arms folded behind his head, taking up well over half of the available space.

Ever since he'd started sleeping here, the guards hadn't come to haul Lard Nar off for 'questioning.' Maybe they thought two Vortians sleeping together was awkward or something. As long as it worked it didn't really matter what they thought.

"Sorry, I'm just feeling a bit down," Prisoner 777 admitted.

"I might feel more sympathy for you if your elbow wasn't in my face."

"Oh, sorry," Prisoner 777 remarked, shifting over a bit. "Better?"

"No."

"You don't think they'd actually deactivate Bann do you?"

Lard Nar groaned and brought a hand to his forehead.

"How many times are you going to ask me that?"

"Until you stop saying 'yes' and lie to make me feel better," Prisoner 777 answered.

"Fine..." Lard Nar relented. "I'm sure they won't deactivate Bann."

"Thanks, but now I know you're lying…" Prisoner 777 let out another sigh.

He let out a startled yelp when his cellmate gave him a rough shove, and he landed up on the floor. Feeling a bit dazed, he carefully propped himself up and rubbed his sore arm.

He was definitely going to bruise from that.

"Alright, I can take a hint," Prisoner 777 said as he rose to his feet. He adjusted his prison garb and raised an invisible brow at his cellmate. "Why are you upset? You didn't even like him."

"No you can't," Lard Nar insisted, rolling over so he was facing away from him. "And I'm a little irritated that I can't get a decent night sleep with your constant wiggling around."

"Well, I can take an obvious hint anyway," Prisoner 777 remarked. He walked over to his own cot and flopped down on the hard mattress just as he realized an obvious hint would make the point of a hint rather pointless. "How's your arm doing?"

"Fine…" Lard Nar muttered. He touched the bandage thoughtfully. "It doesn't hurt as much as it did yesterday... as long as the guards…" he abruptly stopped speaking.

"Yeah, I hope Pain isn't next for guard duty. At least Buckram has been leaving us alone for the most part," Prisoner 777 continued, filling in the awkward silence. He knew what his cell-mate was thinking… as long as the guards didn't beat him up, his arm would heal eventually.

"Why is he called Buckram anyway?" Lard Nar asked.

Prisoner 777 clicked his tongue. What had prisoner 701 said?

"I think it was the name of an evil dictator on some planet somewhere… the name kind of became synonymous with a large violent bully."

"Really?" Lard Nar didn't sound completely convinced. "Because one of my crew once said buckram was some kind of cloth."

Prisoner 777 laughed and shook his head. "Wow, his name wouldn't make any sense then would it?"

"No. Not really."

Even though Bann was gone, Prisoner 777 counted himself lucky. Hardly anyone in prison got to have a cellmate, at least not after the whole escaping thing happened. After that the place seemed to be on permanent lock-down. No one was allowed outside, and the only 'social gathering spot' was in the showers once a week.

He couldn't banter with Bann anymore, but he more than made-up for it with all of the strange conversations he had with Lard Nar. The former rebel was also starting to talk more about the resistance he'd been a part of although he never mentioned any names of the members.

Also, Prisoner 777 quickly realized that if he pushed for information Lard Nar would shut-down and refuse to speak. It was better to wait and let the ex-rebel talk at his own pace. Otherwise the former captain would start getting paranoid and begin searching the room for cameras and… yeah. That had been an interesting morning.

"Prisoner seven hundred and seventy seven."

"Gah!" Prisoner 777 recoiled in surprise. There were two guards standing in the room. When did they get there? No wonder Lard Nar was being so quiet suddenly.

Why didn't he hear their footsteps? He wasn't spacing out that badly was he? Maybe he was… that was a frightening thought. He could lose a few days if he got lost inside his mind.

No wait… that could be fun.

"Did you guys get new boots?" the question left his mouth before he had time to think. Was that a girly question? It's not like he was asking where the guard bought them. Obviously Irkens only wore a standard issue uniform from their planet. He didn't need to ask.

There was an awkward pause. Buckram glanced at his partner before returning his attention to the prisoner. "You're coming with us," he said, deciding to completely ignore the question.

"Oh, sure, alright…" Prisoner 777 said as he slowly walked towards them.

_They must have figured out my sabotage plans. I'm so dead…_ he thought to himself, forcing a smile. He glanced over his shoulder at Lard Nar who was sitting up and staring in wide-eyed horror as the guards led him from the zappy room.

They took him to the research facility where most of the testing was done. This calmed him down a little because it wasn't an interrogation room or a quiet spot where they could dispose of him in secret. The guards usually weren't very secretive when it came to disposing of prisoners, but that didn't mean they never did that… probably.

"You're going to test one of the new virtual simulators," Buckram informed him as he thrust a visor into Prisoner 777's hands.

He looked at it, confused. The Irkens hadn't asked him to test anything for a while… the test subjects were almost always trouble makers or prisoners who drew attention to themselves. He studied it for a moment. It seemed like your basic virtual reality headgear.

At least this device probably wouldn't make him explode…

As soon as he fastened it on, the experience began. The world he was on was desolate. Of course it was. Normal Irkens didn't get to see a planet before the armada arrived. What they typically saw was the aftermath; the destruction and desolation of a once vibrant landscape. Even the soldiers were usually teleported in after the canon sweep happened.

"So… what am I supposed to do?" Prisoner 777 ventured. There was smoke in the sky. He shielded his eyes against the bright light coming from the planet's large sun. He was sweating it was so hot. No wait… he thought he was sweating. His brain was also doing a good job of making him think he was thirsty. He was tempted to use some rubble for shade and take a nap.

Yes, laziness. That would totally be smiled upon. Stupid smiley face virus. Oh right. Virtual world.

"I would suggest you run," Buckram responded, sounding somewhat amused.

"Run?" Prisoner 777 questioned. "Why would I need to…?" a large shadow fell over him, and he looked up. Something big was circling overhead. He took an uneasy step back and cringed. He'd just stepped in some warm water or something…

When he looked down, he saw it wasn't water but a pool of blood. There were dead bodies lying close by attracting swarms of loud buzzing flies. These corpses were in various stages of decomposition.

He could almost taste the smell of rotting flesh hanging in the stale air.

"Um uh… ok… this is pretty gross," he admitted, covering his mouth to block the taste. Of course this wasn't going to work, he quickly realized. Even so, he figured it was better than doing nothing.

Then a loud screech came from the flying creature above, and it dove straight at him.

If he died in this place, would it affect him in the real world? He wondered. It was probably better not to find out.

He turned and ran as fast as he could away from the setting sun. There were more bodies. His foot got caught on someone's ribcage, and he fell facedown into another rotting, bloated corpse. The flies mistook him for another easy meal and started biting. He quickly scrambled to his feet, trying to ignore the wave of nausea and thirst he was experiencing.

Normally he would have fainted by now, but he couldn't. His hands reached to remove the device, but it wasn't there… how could it not be there!?

Now he was starting to panic a little. He was trapped in a horrible virtual world without anyway to escape. The device was also keeping him from fainting. That was his best defence mechanism too…

"Wow this sure seems real… ha ha…" he tried, hoping to hear the guard's response. The bites stung. He rubbed his arms to sooth the pain a bit, and he started coughing on the stench permeating the area.

Thirst. Hunger. Fatigue. He was feeling all of this at once.

There was a moment of searing pain as large teeth tore through his flesh and crunched through his bones. "Ahhhhhghh!"

And in his dying second he wondered how he could've forgotten about the giant monster in the sky.

* * *

The device was removed, and he stumbled backwards, feeling his abdomen to make sure all of his organs were still in place.

"That was… the worst score yet…" Buckram's partner commented flatly.

Both of the guards were scowling at him.

"Err…" Prisoner 777 managed a weak smile. "Sorry…?"

"Try it again."

* * *

It took ten more tries before the guards finally grew bored of forcing number 777 to test the virtual simulation. He could never survive longer than ten minutes anyway. Most of his experience was the after death feeling of his skin melting away and his organs gushing out. Then the mind numbing nothingness that followed.

Bleeding out was slightly more uncomfortable than getting bitten in half he decided, hugging himself as the guards led him back to his cell. Well, the whole ordeal was over with now. He couldn't wait to dive into another project and forget about this experience.

They shoved him back through the barrier, and he stumbled forward into the room. He took a quick look around. Yep. Everything was still in place. Lard Nar seemed to be asleep. Ah well. It's not like he really wanted to talk about corpses and flying lizard things anyway.

He walked over to the desk and began typing basic command coding.

"Laes…" Lard Nar spoke quietly, sitting up.

Of course Lard Nar wasn't sleeping. He was almost never sleeping. Prisoner 777 turned around, smiling. "Oh hey. I thought you were sleeping."

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, it wasn't a big deal, see?" he held out his arms to show his cellmate they weren't bruised or broken. "They didn't touch me, so don't worry about it." He turned back to the monitor and started typing again.

"What did they do?" Lard Nar pressed, not sounding the least bit convinced.

"They stood around mostly," Prisoner 777 shrugged. "I guess they didn't have other stuff to do or whatever."

"Laes, I'm serious. You told me to tell you what happened to me, and I did… now please tell me."

"I saw the virtual world you mentioned," Prisoner 777 relented. "There were a lot of bodies everywhere, I kept tripping over them." He chuckled and rubbed the back of his head ruefully as he moved away from the desk and focused his attention on his roommate. "Apparently I suck at surviving. That's what they told me. Anyway, it wasn't so bad. I mean once you die there's not much you can do."

"How many times did you die?"

"I think…" Prisoner 777 tapped his chin. "Eleven?"

"In under an hour?"

"Yep."

"And you're still… sane?"

"Well that's been a bit debatable in the first place hasn't it?" Prisoner 777 joked, shrugging again.

"It's worse when you die though… you still feel pain… you feel everything…" Lard Nar cringed at the memory and shuddered.

"How long were you in there for?" Prisoner 777 asked, curious. Yeah, so far this conversation had been swell. Yup. There's nothing better than talking about virtual death.

"Three days…" Lard Nar muttered.

"Wait… three whole days? You mean like nights too? Straight?" Prisoner 777 questioned in disbelief.

The ex-captain nodded wordlessly.

"How many times did you die?"

"Like… five… or something…" Lard Nar replied.

Prisoner 777 smacked himself in the forehead. "And I thought the guards were just trying to be mean when they said I was horrible."

"It was after they showed me the simulation of Vort… I was just so tired…"

"So you're saying you were exhausted, and you still only died five times?" Prisoner 777 buried his face in his hands. "Ugh… I really am horrible... Buckram said "surviving in that place takes skill and adaptability." I guess I have none of both. I mean I knew that before, but it's been confirmed now, and I guess I'm a bit disappointed."

"Laes… what they did to you… I'm sorry…" Lard Nar mumbled under his breath. He drew the blanket up to his chin. "You'll probably have nightmares for a while…"

"Oh boy," Prisoner 777 said. "That sounds like fun." He perked up and lowered his hands away from his face. "I can still sleep with you right?"

Lard Nar sighed. "You never asked in the first place."

"Because I knew you'd say no."

"I will still say no," Lard Nar informed him.

"But I might dream of getting eaten by horrible things," he whined.

There was a long pause. Lard Nar was actually considering giving him permission? This was new.

Even if his cellmate didn't agree, Prisoner 777 would just sneak into his cot later anyway.

"Whatever… it's not like I can stop you or anything," Lard Nar muttered, touching his bandage thoughtfully.

He was definitely their target now, Prisoner 777 decided. The guards were coming every other day to drag him off to the testing room to try one horrible virtual reality world after another. At first he had a hard time not vomiting and successfully surviving was next to impossible.

Ok, so everything was wired to his senses. He felt a whole lot of pain when he fell into sharp rocks or got skewered by an unknown alien monster, and he tasted and smelled things he never ever wanted to smell or taste again, but it was still just an elaborate program made up of codes. That's what he kept telling himself anyway. It made him feel slightly better when he remembered the giant vicious monsters were digital.

Besides, if there was one thing he knew, it was codes. The monsters could only do what they were programmed to do, and this usually consisted of chasing the tester around and violently hacking and slashing with teeth and claws, and Galre only knew what else, until the tester was dead. The trick was finding the blind spots in the system and reacting in ways the program wouldn't know how to respond.

Prisoner 777 sat up and turned so his legs were dangling off the side of the cot. Unfortunately he hadn't been able to figure out how to outsmart the programs… it was one thing to be sitting at a desk, reading through tons of coding, it was quite another to be running around frantically trying to stay alive.

"Laes…" Lard Nar spoke, gripping him by the wrist to stop him.

The guards were coming again. He and Lard Nar could hear their boot-steps.

Sleep… now that was a little harder to come by. Every time he closed his eyes he could see the face of one of the countless beasts. Sometimes he woke up screaming random things like "you can't have my organs!" He always laughed about it later, but Lard Nar didn't think it was funny at all.

Angry-Sheela and Pain were rotated into the cellblock yesterday. They would be the ones escorting him today.

"I'll get us out of here…" Lard Nar muttered. "I don't know how yet… but I'll figure out a way to do it…"

"Ok um… you have to let go…" Prisoner 777 said, carefully pulling out of his cellmate's grasp.

Out of here huh…? Out of here… wait. The virtual world was not a prison cell. Well it kind of was, but it was also sort of like being outside. With the nightmares and the constant failing in the virtual world, he hadn't been bored at least. Sure he'd probably be mentally scarred for life, but it could always be worse.

"Hey thanks," Prisoner 777 spoke. He was trying to remain positive despite the fear he had for that virtual place. "I'll be ok though, really."

"But they keep doing it to you... "

Pain and Angry-Sheela stepped into the room, looking smug. Prisoner 777's pale complexion, weight loss, and the dark circles under his eyes were the visible signs of the virtual abuse he was suffering. The worse he looked, the happier the guards seemed to be.

"Well, come on then," Pain insisted.

Prisoner 777 let out a sigh as he slid off the cot and trudged over to his tormentors. Hopefully they'd get bored after an hour…

He followed them quietly. His hands started shaking, so he pressed them into fists and brought them behind his back.

The door to the testing facility opened, and he swallowed the lump in his throat.

Someone was laughing? He lifted his eyes and stood frozen in shock. The guards also weren't moving or speaking a word. The Tallest were in the room… they were in the room!

"You died already Purple, really?" Red laughed.

Prisoner 777 nearly fainted. Irk's leaders were both wearing the virtual reality visors; the ones the guards had been tormenting him with for the last week and a half! That wasn't something a Tallest should be wearing was it?

"Yeah, and it friggin hurt too." The lavender eyed Tallest muttered.

"How did you even do that? I was keeping the biting end distracted."

"I think its tail might've pushed me off a ledge or something," Purple replied.

There was a bit of a pause as Red tried not to laugh at this. "I'm going to step on your corpse," the crimson eyed Tallest informed his fellow leader.

"Hey! This thing doesn't restart after you die like the other… hey! Heey! Ouch! Red, stop stepping on me you goon!"

"This is pretty fun."

"Yeah for you. I'm just a lifeless rotting thing... and seriously Red if you step on me one more time I'm not going to tell you where I hid your popcorn!"

"I know all of your hiding places Purple."

"Yeah, that's what you think… Red! Enough already!"

"Yeah yeah, I'm sorry. Kind of. Hey. Sweet. You're turning into a pile of bones."

"My Tallest!" Both guards blurted at once. They were probably a bit horrified that one of their leaders was turning into a virtual pile of bones.

"Those things aren't…" Angry-Sheela began, but she decided not to finish her sentence.

"They're dangerous," Pain interjected.

"Dangerous?" Red questioned skeptically. "Of course they're dangerous. That's what they're built for. The experience is supposed to be as awful as possible for our soldiers in training, and it seems to be working pretty well so far. The pain even felt real."

"Pain…?" Angry-Sheela questioned tentatively.

"When that lizard thing burnt my hand off with its acid spit," Red informed them.

Pain actually fainted. Prisoner 777 never thought he'd get to see one of the guards collapse from shock like that. He was starting to feel a bit better now.

"Sirs, please allow me to take those off," Angry-Sheela said as she approached them.

"Ok fine," Purple quickly relented.

"I'm going to take a few minutes to climb that mountain," Red insisted, holding up a hand to keep her away. He had no idea where she was because of the visor covering his eyes. All he could see was some desolate world probably. "I think that thing's nest is up there."

"But sir…" Angry-Sheela tried to protest.

"I'm getting revenge for Purple," Red insisted, leaving no room for argument.

"The only one I want virtual revenge on is you, you jerk," Purple informed the other Tallest.

"Then get better at virtual fighting," Red commented.

"Go virtual die you virtual idiot."

"Saying virtual doesn't make it ok for you to threaten me," Red informed his fellow Tallest.

"You just virtually walked on my bones you virtual pain in the antennae."

"Ok Purple. Really. Enough with the word 'virtual' already."

The female guard reached up and removed Purple's visor. She immediately took a few steps back to give her leader space, and she dipped her head respectfully to avoid any kind of uncomfortable eye contact with her Tallest.

Purple rubbed his temples. "So are those things ready yet or what?" he asked. "Red said production has slowed a lot or something and…" he paused when he noticed Prisoner 777. "You… you're that funny guy."

"Hey," Prisoner 777 spoke, giving the Tallest a single wave.

Purple smirked as he glanced from the guard to the prisoner. "So you can probably tell me why you and the other prisoners aren't working very hard right?"

"Well… I don't know about anyone else… but I've been testing those devices you were using," Prisoner 777 replied. He didn't even think he might need to alter the truth to keep the guards from getting pissed off until after he spoke, not that it mattered. The Tallest probably ordered the guards to get the Vortians to test the simulation devices anyway.

"Since we don't have paks to filter out severe pain, we tend to dwell on the experience more. You know. Nightmares and stuff. It makes it hard to concentrate on a day's worth of coding."

"Haa! I killed the baby ones," Red gloated. "With only one hand."

Purple rolled his eyes. "Whatever. They were just babies."

"Yeah, but I killed the big one earlier. Are there anymore? Guard person, how many beasts were programed in this thing?"

"Just the one and its offspring…" Angry-Sheela replied. She rubbed one of her arms nervously.

"Ah well, I guess I'm done then… wait… there's a desert. Now that one looks familiar."

"Sir, that would be starting a whole other level..."

"Then I'm going to start a whole other level," Red decided. "Purple, get your butt back in here."

"So you can keep stepping on me after I die again?" Purple questioned, crossing his arms over his chest and raising an invisible brow. "I don't think so."

"Don't be such a wuss."

"Nuh uh."

"Come on Purple."

Purple stuck his tongue out at his co-ruler even though Red couldn't see anything outside of the simulation. His lavender eyes flicked from Red back to Prisoner 777. "Why don't you give it a try or something?"

"Um.. well… because of the pain maybe?" Prisoner 777 said meekly, tapping his index fingers together. "I've already tried it several times, and I keep dying pretty badly."

"Yeah, I know the feeling."

"Purple!"

"Shut up Red! The funny guy will go with you already, so just hang on a sec."

"N-no really…" Prisoner 777 stammered, and he raised his hands in self-defence. "It freaks me out and then I can't sleep which means I can't work."

"Go with Red for one round and I'll think about fixing that," Purple told him. He grabbed the visor from Angry Sheela's hands and held it out for the Vortian. "Come on, you'll be doing the Empire a favour."

"How is this doing the Empire a favour…?" Prisoner 777 asked as he hesitantly accepted the device.

"Ok… you won't really be doing the Empire a favour…" Purple admitted. "But doing me a favour is just as good."

"Oh… well… I guess since I was going to be forced to do this anyway," Prisoner 777 relented as he placed the visor over his eyes.

"Ya, that's the spirit," Purple remarked.

* * *

Seriously though… why was he willingly putting himself in this terrible place again? Prisoner 777 wondered as the virtual world materialized around him. The heat was the first thing to strike him. He nearly doubled over. It was just so hot… All around him lay an endless expanse of sand.

His heart started pounding harder in his chest as he looked from side to side. This was the world with the flesh eating worms burrowing underground.

His last experience taught him that.

He needed to stay alert.

"Hey you," Red spoke, and Prisoner 777 jumped. The Tallest was standing right behind him. His instincts were already failing. "Are you going to use a weapon or not?"

"I… I can use a weapon?" Prisoner 777 questioned; his eyes widening in disbelief. He'd never been able to before. "Really?"

"What do you mean really?" Red questioned. He was wearing a different kind of armour, though it still looked Irken in design. "This is a prototype for the simulators we'll be using to train future generations of soldiers. Weapons are a part of that." One of his antennae lifted a bit. "They must have sealed the weapons when you played it then… that would make surviving the levels much harder."

The crimson-eyed Tallest handed him the laser sword he'd been using. "Use this. I'll grab another one at the next check-point."

"Check point…?"

Red breathed a sigh. "Ok… this is how it works. This simulation acts to keep the trainee trapped inside a virtual world so they can't play coward. The goal is to defeat all of the enemies in a specific area. Right now we are in the desert area. I'm not sure how many things there are here, but I'm sure we'll find out pretty soon. Every location has a checkpoint where you can grab a weapon. Some checkpoints have food and water. If you start thinking you're thirsty you're going to feel thirsty, so I'd grab water whenever we come across it if I were you."

"You sure know a lot about this," Prisoner 777 remarked glancing down at the weapon in his hands. He adjusted his grip on the handle and tried holding it properly.

"Of course I do," Red spoke as he started walking towards one of the dunes. "I helped code some of it."

"You did?" Prisoner 777 asked, following after him. "Er… I mean… you're a Tallest so you don't really have to do that…"

"Shhh," Red turned to the Vortian with a finger pressed to his lips. "Quiet… I felt the sand shift." His antennae flicked forward. "They're right underneath us."

"Like… now?" Prisoner 777 asked, glancing down.

"Don't move for a while," Red said as he carefully began climbing the sand dune.

"Why?"

"Just don't."

"I'm not sure I like that reason."

"There are three things this simulation is supposed to teach," Red began. He stopped climbing for a moment to catch his breath. "One is confidence. If you hesitate, you die."

"Good to know…" Prisoner 777 mumbled. Unfortunately he always hesitated.

"The second thing is strategy. If you try to face your enemies head on in here, you'll end up dying."

"I see… so… I'm living bait then?" He kind of expected it to go this route, and he really wasn't looking forward to the dying part.

Red rolled his eyes. "The third thing is team work," he notified his skeptical listener. "Believe it or not, I happen to think team work is important. This is something they try to teach on Hobo 13. Try being the key word there..."

"Really? Because I'm getting 'living bait' vibes right now," Prisoner 777 admitted, watching as Irk's leader started climbing again.

"Do you feel the sand shifting underneath you?" Red asked.

"No," Prisoner 777 replied.

"That's because they're following me right now."

"They are?"

"The sand-worms were programed to follow vibrations. Every step you take will draw them to you. Since you haven't been moving, they've 'forgotten' you're there."

"Why aren't they attacking you then?"

"They like to… swarm their prey," Red breathed. He reached the top and pulled himself up. "This must be… the highest flippin' dune in the bloody place… ugh." He rolled onto his back and looked up at the hazy yellow-orange sky.

There were visible shifts in the sand. Prisoner 777 could see movement all around the Tallest, yet Irk's leader was being awfully calm about it; or maybe he was just tired. Either way, Prisoner 777 was definitely the one feeling more anxious at the moment.

"Now what should we do?" the forced participant questioned.

"Wait for it."

"Wait for wh…"

A creature only a bit smaller than Prisoner 777 leaped out of the sand with its mouth open. The sand-worm tried to burrow its rows of sharp little teeth into the Tallest, but Irk's leader simply hit it out of the air. It landed beside him squirming and shrieking.

Another one came at the Tallest who'd already moved into a crouching position. He snagged it by the throat area and squeezed until the thing stopped wriggling. Then he tossed it aside.

"Is there something I should be doing?" Prisoner 777 called, hurrying over to the base of the dune.

Red turned to glower at him. "Didn't I tell you not to move?" he questioned.

"Oh…" Prisoner 777's grip tightened on the handle of the laser sword. He forced a smile. "I forgot?"

The creatures shot out of the sand, flying towards him from above. Prisoner 777's mouth fell open in shock as the monsters descended with their teeth bared. They were almost on top of him!

He swung the sword blindly and managed to slice through one. The other one crashed into him, knocking him down and biting into his arm. Yelping in pain, he tore the little flesh muncher off with his free hand and scrambled to his feet just as another creature emerged.

His arm throbbed painfully. The open wound oozed fresh blood, and it dripped into the sand, enticing the flesh eating worms more. He couldn't see them, but he could feel them moving under his feet.

One must have snagged his foot because he found himself getting pulled into the sand. He lost his balance. The creature's teeth felt like stinging barbs imbedded in his skin. Flashes of hot pain shot up his leg as he struggled to free himself from the vicious creature, and now he was getting flashbacks from the last time this happened.

Lasers rained down all around him. He squeezed his eyes shut against the brightness and clenched his teeth when the sand worm's grip tightened, and then released. His foot throbbed when he tried to move it, and he could feel warm blood gushing from the bite.

The creature could have taken his whole leg off he realized, shuddering. At least Vortian feet were rather stumpy to begin with, though he wasn't sure he'd be able to stand. He thought he should give it a try before giving up completely.

"Need a hand?" Red asked. He slid down the dune with a large gun slung over his shoulder. He also had a canteen of water strapped to his armour. It was hanging at his waist. "You're about as bad as Purple is when it comes to following instructions."

Prisoner 777 stared at him blankly for a moment. Even though Irk's leader was missing his hand, he hardly seemed fazed at all. "It doesn't look like you have any hands to spare," Prisoner 777 joked as he struggled to his feet. Yep. It hurt. He couldn't put much pressure on the injury, and he doubted he'd be able to limp across the desert like this.

There was no choice… he was going to have to dig himself a hole and die.

No wait. There would be sand-worms in it, so never mind the hole.

"Yeah, that's true," Red said, glancing at the stump where his hand used to be. The wound wasn't bleeding at all. The Tallest probably cauterized before entering the desert area. Prisoner777 shuddered at the thought.

"Can you walk?" Red asked.

"Hop maybe," Prisoner 777 replied.

"Do you want out then?"

"And miss the joys of getting eaten alive?" Prisoner 777 questioned, perhaps sounding a bit more sarcastic than he should have. "Who would do that?"

"Most people, but I'd make them stay for trying to weasel out of it," Red remarked with a smirk. "Alright, I'll trade you weapons." He held out the gun. "You can aim right?"

"Sort of…" Prisoner 777 began. He thought about this for a second and shook his head. "Actually no. Not really. Not at all."

"Then just shoot at the ground. The vibrations will mess them up," Red instructed as Prisoner 777 relinquished the sword for the gun.

"Yeah ok, I'll try it."

"You know, if we were in any other area right now, you'd totally be dead," Red informed him.

"Ah yes… the last one actually was a real bummer…"

"The one with the giant flying thing?" Red questioned, squinting an eye.

"Er… yes?"

Red covered his mouth to muffle a laugh and turned away.

Prisoner 777 forced a smile. "What..?"

The crimson eyed Tallest cleared his throat and squared his shoulders. "Nothing," he responded. "I'm just glad I'm used to working with someone who has no in-game military capabilities at all."

"Red, you're standing right beside me," Purple informed him wryly. "I can hear everything you're saying."

"Oh come on Purple, you know it's true."

* * *

Prisoner 777 wondered how much time had passed when he was finally able to remove the visor. He took it off quickly and looked around the room. The guards were watching him warily, and Purple had grabbed some snacks from somewhere and was busying himself with eating them.

When Red lifted the visor from his eyes, he smirked down at Prisoner 777. "Well, you survived," he commented.

"Just barely," Prisoner 777 remarked feeling a bit sheepish. He rubbed the back of his head and put some weight on his formerly injured leg. It was completely fine of course, but he still felt relieved that he didn't need to limp anymore.

"What's your name anyway?" Red asked.

"Well my prison number is Triple Sev-"

"I mean your real name."

"Oh… uh…" an Irken had never asked for his name before. Not even Bann had thought to ask… and Zim always called him something strange. "It's Laes."

"Alright, so let's get back to business," Red decided as he placed his visor on the metal table. "First of all, I think these simulation devices need to be tested by the guards, so for the next three days I want you all to be doing that." He glanced at Angry Shiela and Pain who were waiting nervously by the doors. "Understood?"

Pain kept his eyes lowered as he nodded.

"Next, there's the issue of production…" His attention turned to Prisoner 777. "I heard you tell Purple that one of the reasons production has slowed is because too many Vortians are being used to test the finished devices, correct?"

"I uh… can't really say… I only know that's why I can't think properly…" Prisoner 777 admitted.

"Uh huh…" Red scowled at Pain and Angry Shiela. "I'm sure the guards are aware the Vortians here are the ones producing all the weapons and battlemechs we need for Operation Impending Doom 2."

Prisoner 777 could swear he saw the two guards shrink under their Tallest's scrutiny. Something inside him was doing a small happy-dance.

"If they are inhibiting our soldiers in obtaining those supplies, they will be held accountable for any of our losses on the front lines."

"Yup, that's like worthy of instant death or something right?" Purple questioned between mouthfuls.

"Right…" Red agreed, giving his co-Tallest a strange look. "You can't hold off for like two minutes?"

"I could, but why would I?" Purple countered cheekily.

Red rolled his eyes. "Anyway… so with that, I want to make sure any Vortians who are currently working on a project won't be interrupted with other less important tasks like testing out finished products," he said, making sure Pain and Angry Shiela understood him before he moved to leave the room.

"Come on Purple, we've got more destruction to oversee."

"Alright, more destruction," Purple spoke as he followed after Red.

And just like that they were gone.

**Random in Fic Facts:** Prisoner 777 is a terrible shot. Red thinks he knows where all of Purple's hiding places are, but he doesn't. I thought I had more interesting things to say but I don't.**  
**

**More Author's Notes: **I didn't realize how long I made this. I could have probably split it in two. Well, at the risk of trying to cut it up and edit it more, I better post it now. Otherwise who knows how long I'll be. xP


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